Luck Runs Out on You
by Equinoctis
Summary: This piece follows the developing relationship between Vetra Nyx and the Pathfinder: After returning from their mission to infiltrate the Kett facility and rescue the Angaran Moshae, Ryder struggles with the consequences of his choices. Where once there was only camaraderie, something else begins to grow (Slow Burn).
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

 **Hello everyone. I hope you enjoy my first foray into the masterpiece that is Mass Effect. I've been a lurker of the site for a long time, but I recently built up the courage to finally submit my own work.**

 **Any criticism is good criticism and I look forward to reading what you think. Let me know what you like, what you dislike, what works, and what doesn't work.**

 **Again, thank you for your time and I hope you have a great day!**

 **... ... ... ... ... ...**

The constant _thrum-thrum-thrum_ of the Tempest's drive core seemed to reverberate through the Pathfinder's quarters. A relentless drone that pierced his skull and made it impossible to relax. Even with the cabin's noise dampeners active, one nuisance was replaced with another as the constant bickering between Kallo and Gil could still be heard over the ship-wide intercom. While it usually provided comedic relief to more serious circumstances, it now made the Pathfinder want to break something. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. Combine that ongoing frustration with the stress of allowing thousands of captive Angara to die for the sake of destroying an exaltation facility and Ryder had had enough for one day. His palm slammed against the com-system's override feature.

"Kallo! Gil!"

"Yes, Pathfinder?"

"SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP."

All communication throughout the ship went silent. Conversations stopped mid-sentence. An eerie quiet filtered through the ship as none of the crew were sure how to respond to the Pathfinder's sudden eruption. His usual demeanor of professional stoicism and occasional sarcastic wit rarely gave way to passionate outbursts. It was a side that few were privy to and fewer had experienced. Ryder collapsed onto his bed with a heavy sigh. His crashing headache now a subtle throbbing. Minutes passed and he felt the comforting embrace of sleep tug at the edges of his mind as his body slowly released the tension of the last few days. Just as his mind crossed the edge into murky oblivion, the image of an Angaran woman appeared. An inferno raged around her as blood dripped from her limp fingers. He moved to grab her shoulder, to pull her away from the roaring flames, but her eyes locked him in place. She said no words, but her eyes blamed him for her death, and the Pathfinder couldn't argue otherwise. He left her – whoever this ghost was – to die. There was no way around that fact. The woman opened her mouth and screamed as the fire around her billowed with intensity. The inferno burned and burned, the heat from the flames caused Ryder's skin to prickle uncomfortably. He reached out again in a futile effort to pull her away, but her screaming intensified and the area around them exploded.

Ryder jolted awake, his throat raw and his clothes damp with sweat. He slid to the edge of the bed and placed his head into his hands.

"Goddammit."

Unceremoniously removing his shirt and tossing it to the floor, Ryder walked to his desk and pulled out a bottle of whiskey from the top drawer. If he couldn't sleep, then he was going to get drunk. As he removed the cork lid and brought the bottle to his lips, a light _rap-rap_ echoed from his door. He deactivated the magnetic lock and sat heavily in his desk chair, the bottle of whiskey clutched in his grip

"It's open."

The door to his quarters slid open and the Tempest's personal smuggler tentatively made her entrance. Vetra Nyx was not a timid individual. If anything, her years and experience living in the grey areas of society made her stronger and more determined than the average person. That being said, emotional situations always made her feel awkward and out of place. In the world of cut-throat smuggling there was very little room for feelings and openness.

"Hey Ryder…You doing alright?"

She first noticed that he looked exhausted. His eyes were heavy and his posture uncharacteristic. He seemed to be attempting to appear casual but he ultimately just looked uncomfortable. Ryder took a long drink from the bottle in his hand and visibly grimaced from the burn as it went down.

"I'm great. Couldn't be better."

"Well, you don't look like you're doing great. Honestly, you kinda look like something the Varren dragged in."

He laughed and took another sip of whiskey.

"Oh, you wound me Miss Nyx," he placed a hand on his chest. "And here I thought you came to cheer me up."

She grabbed one of the lounge chair near the bed and dragged it closer to where he was sitting.

"So, there is something wrong."

It wasn't a question but a statement. She reached out for the bottle and he relinquished it willingly. Vetra took a moment to appraise the amber liquid inside, appreciating the earthy aroma which wafted from the bottle's opening. Ryder adjusted himself and leaned on an elbow braced on the chair's armrest, his chin cupped in his hand.

"Nothing gets by you, does it?"

She smirked.

"Nope. Well, that, and the fact that if a voice could kill, both Kallo and Gil would be bloody piles on the floor right now."

"That bad?"

"Oh yeah. Kallo keeps mumbling to himself and Gil is hiding in the engine room. I think he put up a 'Do Not Disturb' sign as well."

Ryder laughed and Vetra leaned in slightly.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Any mirth that was in Ryder's expression disappeared in an instant. A darkness seemed to creep behind his eyes and root itself there. He stood up and opened his closet, pulling out an Initiative sweatshirt. As he put it on he muttered,

"There's not much to say honestly."

"You're a terrible liar Ryder."

"Maybe that's why I always lose at poker. Who'd of thought?"

Vetra stood up as well and positioned herself a few feet in front of him. Her arms crossed, a determined look on her face.

"Look Ryder. You told me, that even if things get rough, you'd never run out on me or leave me behind. I'm here to tell you the same. I want to help you. But you have to talk to me."

Ryder clenched and unclenched his fists nervously. He briefly contemplated telling the Turian to leave him alone and get out, but he realized that would just make matters worse. He scratched the back of his head uncomfortably and let out a deep breath.

"I…I let those people die. Thousands of them. Men, women, children. I let them die and I don't know if I made the right choice. Maybe I should have done something different. Maybe I should have listened to the Kett Cardinal and left the exaltation facility standing. I don't know. But it has been eating at me ever since we got back from Voeld."

He walked towards the viewing window and looked out towards the tranquil gloom. Pinpricks of light twinkling as if in defiance of the shadows that attempted to engulf them. Vetra watched him quietly before speaking softly.

"It was an impossible choice Ryder. You did what you thought was right. What you thought was better in the long run. There was no 'right' call."

"The dead probably think differently."

Vetra closed the distance between them and looked out at the darkness with him.

"The dead don't think at all."

He turned to look at her with a weary expression.

"Well, Jaal definitely thinks differently. I don't think he's going to be giving me the 'person of the year' award any time soon."

Vetra's mandibles flared with anger and she placed her hands on her hips.

"Jaal isn't the Pathfinder. He doesn't have to make the tough decisions Ryder. You do."

He was surprised by the passion in her voice, but he appreciated it nonetheless. He made his way towards his door and waited for her to follow.

"Well, I appreciate that Vetra. Maybe you're right."

She gave him a sidewise glance and smirked.

"And don't you forget it."

He opened the door with a swipe of his palm and left his arm out as if to say 'after you.' She rolled her eyes and walked ahead of him into the hall.

"I guess I should probably go talk to Gil and Kallo…maybe let them know I'm not going to shoot them out an airlock. What do you think?"

Vetra chuckled and Ryder quickly joined her side.

"That's probably a good idea, Mr. Pathfinder."

She paused suddenly and it took Ryder a few seconds to realize Vetra had stopped walking. The smuggler struggled to find the right words before finally revealing what she was thinking.

"For what it's worth Ryder, I can't imagine anyone else as Pathfinder. And more than that…I wouldn't want to follow anyone else into the unknown."

A sense of warmth flowed through his gut and he gave the smuggler a smile that reached all the way to his eyes.

"Well, Miss Nyx, I wouldn't want anyone else looking out for me."

The smuggler's mandibles flared delicately, the movement giving away her pleasure at his words. Vetra did her best to hide it by pretending to scratch her face, but she was sure Ryder witnessed her reaction. In any event, he was gracious enough not to mention it, and they continued on their way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

 **So after thinking it over, I'm going to change this from a one-shot and into a connected and focused narrative. I hope you have enjoyed what I've posted so far and I look forward to posting more.**

 **Please leave a review! They are always welcome and always helpful!**

 **Have a great day!**

 **... ... ... ... ... ...**

Amber light from Vetra's Omni-tool bathed the storage room she had claimed as her personal living space. The warped tones of honey and goldenrod reminiscent of a writhing flame. As she absentmindedly scrolled through her device, checking for updates from any of her less-than-legal contacts, the shadows cast by her traveling fingers performed a twisting dance upon the adjacent wall. A skilled and experienced smuggler, she was constantly on the lookout for resources and equipment that could give the Nexus – and in extension the Pathfinder – a tactical advantage. It was monotonous. It was oftentimes thankless. But it was necessary for them to survive.

After several minutes of standing in the middle of the room, Vetra took a moment to relieve herself of her heavy outer coat. She yawned. It was deep and breathy and it betrayed the exhaustion hidden behind her determined nature. She lazily tossed the article of clothing onto her work station and eased her weary frame onto the therapeutic cushioning of her cot. Continuing to peruse the interface on her forearm, a vid-call notification appeared. Closing out her encrypted messages, the contact VI indicated that the caller was Vetra's younger sister, Sidera. She adjusted herself and accepted the call.

"Hey big sis! What's up?"

It didn't matter when it was or where it was from, but anytime Sid called she always seemed to be in a perpetual good mood or excited about something. If Vetra ever had to determine labels for those she knew, her sister's would probably read as _Persistent Optimist_. On the other hand, her own would probably be something between _Hard Ass_ and _The Responsible One._ She didn't mind the title. But being the consistent voice of reason eventually made her grind her teeth in frustration.

"I'm doing alright Sid," she shrugged noncommittally, "how's your work on the Nexus coming along?"

"Oh, y'know, the usual. I'm pretty much just number crunching right now until the bigger issues get sorted out on the Nexus."

Vetra yawned again and sluggishly wiped the tears from her eyes. Sid's shifting expression projected her concern for her sister.

"You look really tired V. Have you been getting enough sleep?"

"Yeah kiddo, I'm fine. It's just been hectic lately. What with the Kett and assisting with setting up viable outposts, I've had a pretty full plate. Don't worry about me."

Sid gave her a skeptical look and sighed.

"You never know when to relax V. You have to stop working all the time. Take a moment for some rest and relaxation; go get some 'me time' every once in a while."

Vetra leaned into a sitting position and answered with a challenging tone.

"I take 'me time' all the time little sister. But I appreciate you trying to look out for me."

Sid rolled her eyes with exasperation and frowned.

"Stealing and smuggling doesn't exactly count Vetra. I'm talking like real relaxing. You know, go dancing, get a drink, and maybe go out on a date or something."

Before Vetra could fire back with a retort, Syd raised her hands in mock surrender.

"I'm just saying. Alright, I have to go. Duty calls; the Nexus never sleeps and all that. I'll call you later, okay?"

"Sounds good Sid. Stay safe."

The display of the Omni-tool shut down and the storage area was entombed in an inky darkness. She lay down on her side and closed her eyes, the toll of the last few days finally crashing down upon her. Moments passed and Vetra's mind began to meander through its sleepy stupor. She chuckled to herself at Syd's final comment.

 _I should go on a date? Ha. Good one Sid._

 **... ... ... ... ... ...**

Sidera Nyx sat quietly at her desk. Like an overactive beehive, the staff of Nexus Operations buzzed around her, over caffeinated technicians sprinted to and fro as they attempted to accomplish one task before they are buried by a thousand more. The barking orders of Director Addison caused workers to run. The squealing whines of Director Tann caused workers to groan. An unorganized cacophony deafened the deck. Yet despite all of this noise and chaos, Sid found herself lost in thought. As the room around her shifted about, an uncomfortable sense of apprehension clawed its way into her abdomen. Her slender fingers undulated in a rhythmic rise and fall as she scoured her mind for ideas.

Sidera usually did her best to stay out of her older sister's business; she attempted to stay clear of anything related to Vetra's personal life. It was understood that certain areas were just simply off limits. While she did not appreciate that detail, she had begrudgingly come to terms with it. However this was different. She had a good reason for wanting to get involved this time. Well, if she was being completely honest, any reason was a 'good' reason to get involved in Vetra's business. Even if her older sister hated it. Regardless, Sid made her decision and reactivated the console with a flick of her wrist. She hastily scrolled through her station contacts. It didn't take long for Sid to locate her intended pawn. An excited mirth overtook her apprehension as she opened the messaging system. If Vetra wasn't going to take a vacation willingly, her little sister was just going to have to get creative.

 **... ... ... ... ... ...**

The invasive yet familiar scent of gun oil occupied the Pathfinder's private quarters. Following every excursion in the field, Ryder was meticulous with cleaning, maintaining, and repairing his field gear. Every piece was disassembled and laid out neatly like a tapestry of steel. Every scratch and groove a monument to those lives that had been extinguished and of those that had been saved. Each varying component of warfare an evocative mosaic contrasted against primal potential. With practiced efficiency he slowly worked a gnarled rag through the barrel of his father's service pistol, the weapon's grip weathered by years of reliable use. As he removed dust and debris from within the mechanisms, he imagined the places and adventures the weapon – and in extension his father – had experienced while serving in the Alliance military. With one final pass of the cleaning rag he laid the pistol down upon his work area.

He leaned back into his chair. A grease stained hand wrapped around a perspiring glass of golden liquor. The liquid, while cool, ignited a nostalgic fire in his belly. It reminded him of summer days on Earth; of family outings and smiling dinners; of home. A picture of his parents smiled back at him from his desk. Once upon a time, in the world frozen in that frame, his mother and father were happy. Mom wasn't wasting away. Dad was actually present.

He took another sip of his drink.

It made his mouth taste of ash.

Ryder violently flipped the frame face down. The knotted mahogany produced an audible _clap_ as it impacted the desk's steel surface. Placing his drink down, he pushed himself out of the seat and stretched, his joints popping and cracking from being hunched over too long. A red flashing light drew his attention back towards his desk. Activating his Omni-tool with a quick flick of the wrist, he answered the pending vid-call.

"This is Pathfinder Ryder."

"Hey Ryder! What's up?"

Ryder chuckled softly, amused at the energetic nature of the caller.

"Hey Sid, I'm just…" he paused and looked around at the gear scattered around his room, "…doing some cleaning. What can I do for you?"

Sid shifted nervously in her seat. She had already chewed the end of one talon down and she was slowly working on another.

"Would you be willing to do me a huge favor?"

He looked at her quizzically.

"I guess it would really have to depend on the favor Sid. Is something wrong? Are you in trouble?"

Sid laughed at Ryder's questioning. His seriousness reminiscent of Vetra whenever she thought Sid did something stupid or immature.

"Oh no," she said, waving her hand nonchalantly, "it's nothing that serious. Honestly, I need your help with my sister. I think she needs to get out more."

That piqued the Pathfinder's interest. It had been a few days since he and Vetra had really sat down and taken the time to talk. Truth be told, the last time they had held a full conversation had been after they returned from Voeld. He thought back to what she said to him, about how she made it clear that she would be there for him no matter the obstacle. He remembered that she actively sought him out after he lost his composure with Gil and Kallo over the intercom. Thinking of Vetra made him smile.

"Alright Sid, what did you have in mind?"

Sidera scooted into her desk excitedly, her eyes bright and a toothy grin plastered across her face.

"Okay, so, as I'm sure you know, my sister works way too hard and very rarely if ever takes a break."

Ryder nodded in agreement as he listened to the younger Turian speak.

"I need your help in getting her to take a day off and relax for once. She'd never admit it, but I know that she's been running herself into the ground. She needs some 'me time' Ryder. Like, badly."

"You're right. She does need to take more personal time." Ryder rubbed his chin intently, his mind running through possibilities. He started to pace back and forth milling options over in his head. "So what does she like to do?"

Sid huffed with exasperation.

"That's the problem Ryder. All she seems to get enjoyment from is smuggling, smuggling, and more smuggling. That's why I need your help with this."

He continued to walk back and forth. Ryder froze mid-step. A playful expression overtook his features as he regarded Sid's questioning look.

"I've got an idea."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:**

 **Hello All, I hope that you have enjoyed what I have posted so far. While writing this chapter, I decided that I am going to try and make every new chapter at least 3000 words or more.**

 **I chose this for two reasons: 1) I can fit more content into a section without feeling like I left something out, and 2) You, the audience, will have much more to chew on. Everybody wins!**

 **So, enjoy this longer chapter and please leave a review if you like it. All criticism is good criticism!**

 **… ... ... ... ... ...**

The familiar pressure of hardened steel pushed against Ryder's chest as he deftly snapped the final clasp of his armor into position. He rolled his shoulders and jumped in place to make sure nothing was loose or secured improperly. Satisfied that everything was where it should be, and confident that nothing vital would come loose if he had to maneuver himself quickly, he asked SAM, the onboard AI, to connect his communicator to Sidera Nyx's work station. As he waited for the call to connect, he peered out of his cabin's observation window towards the darkness below. The Heleus Cluster's lawless and chaotic jewel – the smuggling capital of the cluster – Kadara seemed to smolder defiantly against the ravenous black-hole that prowled beyond it. As the titan's irresistible pull barely missed the insolent figure, Kadara's swirling atmosphere behaved like a veil against the planet's violent splendor. Ryder contemplated the fate of those forced to eke out some form of life there. Nowhere else to turn to. Nowhere else to run. Although he couldn't condone the actions of the 'exiles', he could at least sympathize with their plight. While a few were objectively malicious, many more just seemed to have pulled the short straw. Before he could think about the issue further, SAM's voice echoed in his ear.

"You are connected Pathfinder. You may speak at your leisure."

The Pathfinder nodded in thanks and pressed two fingers to the communicator in his ear.

"Hey Sid, its Ryder, can you hear me?"

He heard a sharp yelp of surprise, a dull _thump_ , and frantic shuffling as someone pulled themselves off of the floor. Sid eventually replied while the subtle sounds of a desk being rearranged could be heard in the background.

"Dammit Ryder, you almost gave me a heart attack." Her voice was shaky and an indirect tone of irritation colored her words.

Ryder did his best to stifle his amusement, but a small chuckle escaped him nonetheless.

"Sorry about that Sid. I forgot that SAM can connect to a terminal without setting off any type of alarm."

She sighed and took a few deep breaths before she said anything else.

"Give a girl a heads up next time? I accidentally threw all my files off my desk and now everyone is looking at me like I just lost my mind."

"Next time, I'll make sure that SAM sends you a loud notification," he said, laughing around his words.

After a few minutes of small talk and benign chatter, Ryder brought the conversation back to the original point of his call.

"Alright Sid, is everything in place? Are we all set?"

"Yep. Everything is where it should be. Kesh approved Lexi's supply requisition, Drack and Jaal made sure to clear out the area of any scavengers, and Suvi 'borrowed' an empty supply crate from a couple of fellow researchers," she said, quickly listing off the important details. "We should be good to go."

Ryder turned from the viewing window and walked out of his cabin. He strolled through the Tempest's lower catwalk and made his way towards the holding bay where the Nomad, their all-terrain vehicle, was parked and constantly being tinkered on by Liam and Gil. They both gave the Pathfinder a nod of acknowledgement before they returned to whatever task they had embroiled themselves into, the occasional flash and crackle of sparks illuminating their protective face-wear.

"Awesome. It looks like it's finally time to put 'Operation Vacation' into effect."

Soft giggling made its way over the channel. In his mind, Ryder could practically see Sid bouncing up and down in her chair with excitement.

"I can't wait to hear all the details. Good luck!"

Sidera closed out the channel and Ryder walked over to the door separating the cargo hold from the rest of the ship. He went over the plan one more time in his head, amazed that all of the pieces had seemingly come together without too many issues. It had taken himself, Sid, Lexi, Drack, and Jaal, several days of careful planning and maneuvering to keep Vetra out of the loop. As far as they could tell, she was unaware of their machinations. The Pathfinder knocked on Vetra's door and did his best to look casual. He didn't want to make her suspicious from the very get go.

The door slid open with a _hiss_ and Vetra looked around for whoever had knocked. Her eyes locked onto Ryder quickly and she beamed as a large smile lit up his face. Even his eyes seemed to smile at her as the corners of them creased together. She couldn't figure out why, but whenever he looked at her like that, Vetra felt her stomach do a somersault. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling. If she was being totally honest, she quite enjoyed it. However it was an unfamiliar sensation and she was wholly unsure of how to react to it. In her mind, at least for the moment, she decided to chalk it up to the excitement of having a close friend.

"Hey Ryder," she said, her voice welcoming, "Did you need me for something? Need something done?"

His smile became a smirk and he answered with a sly expression.

"Actually, yes. I need someone with skills of the more…" he trailed off as if searching for the correct word before resuming, "… _clandestine_ variety. A contact of mine let me know there is a valuable supply cache to be found in an unsearched area of Kadara. You in?"

Vetra expressed a wicked glee at the possibility of preventing Kadara's outlaws from hoarding more materials that the Initiative so desperately required.

"Absolutely."

 **… ... ... ... ... ...**

 _ **Several Days Earlier**_

Lexi T'Perro perused the text of an old medical journal from the early days of asari medicine. The book's edges were frayed and loose bits of binding stuck out of the spine which barely held the pages together. Though extremely old and antiquated, the volume provided her with something to do while the rest of the crew remained injury free. More importantly, it provided Lexi with a visible and tangible link to her life in the Milky Way. As she delved into the familiar pages, the _hiss_ of the med-bay door pulled her attention away from the weathered tome.

The Pathfinder entered the Doctor's office and took a seat on one of the examination beds near her desk. On first observation, Lexi thought he looked more relaxed than he had been over the last few weeks. There was a lightness to his step that indicated something in him had – if only temporarily – unburdened itself from his shoulders. She thought back to his outburst over the ship wide intercom and contemplated what could have eased the turmoil that had infected his stoic persona. Some of the crew often considered him to be cold or aloof due to his lack of emotional responses. However, in Lexi's professional opinion, she saw something else behind his emotive silence. To her, she saw an individual whose core possessed deep levels of passion and empathy but protected itself by keeping everything at an arm's length away.

She greeted him with a smile as she placed her book on her desk.

"Hello Pathfinder, what can I do for you?"

Ryder laid back on the examination bed and laced his arms behind his head. He turned slightly to look at her.

"Lexi, are you able to place an emergency rations requisition with the Nexus?"

The doctor eyed him quizzically.

"If the request fits the need, I have that authorization," she said, the hint of a question just below the surface of her words.

Ryder quickly sat upright and pulled out a list from his pocket that he had hurriedly scribbled down.

"This isn't strictly protocol," he said bluntly, "but I need your help getting these supplies without raising too much suspicion."

Lexi looked over the list carefully and frowned questioningly.

"Ryder, most of these supplies are for dextro-amino based life forms such as turians and quarians. And we only have one turian…"

She trailed off as understanding finally clicked in her brain.

"These items are for Vetra. But what is the need? Our stock is still adequate enough to fit her daily requirements."

Ryder grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck.

"That's the thing Lexi, this is a personal 'under the radar' kind of request. Remember how you mentioned that Vetra is always trying to take care of others? That she needs to take more time for herself? Well," he said extending his arms for effect, "this is part of a plan to do that."

It was a rare occurrence when Lexi T'Perro chose to bend the rules. Rarer still for her to actually want to go against protocol.

The doctor transferred the information from Ryder's list into a requisitions request on her Omni-tool while she trained a stern gaze in his direction.

"This never happened and I have no idea what you're talking about."

Ryder laughed and stood to leave the med-bay.

"I was just here to have a routine check-up done. See you later."

He gave her a cordial wave as the door shuttered behind him. Taking a seat at her desk, the doctor added some medical embellishment to ensure that the request appeared more official. As she finalized the application, a small knowing smile played across her lips.

Lexi had finally discovered the reason, or more specifically the person, behind Ryder's shift in demeanor.

 **… ... ... ... ... ...**

 _ **Present day**_

For all of the planet's violent tendencies, Kadara's wilderness possessed a unique attraction. While the majority of the Heleus Cluster was untamed – save for a few key angaran home worlds and Initiative outposts – Kadara, among its more romantic settlers, possessed the unique title of the "Wild West" of space. While the Collective, a rag tag group of smugglers, and the Exiles, disgraced former Initiative members, battled amongst themselves for control of the port, there was at least some semblance of order and control. All things considered, the authority of the gun ultimately ruled the "civilized" areas of Kadara. Unfortunately, for the unlucky or the stupid, or for those bad enough to be exiled from the Exiles, their fate was usually a short and bloody one. Outside of the port, the Badlands claimed dominion over everything. If the Sulphur vents didn't suffocate you, the corrosive nature of the water would simply dissolve you. If the water didn't kill you, the teeming wildlife would probably hunt you down and eat you. All in all, it was a charming locale.

Through this minefield of death, Vetra and the Pathfinder found themselves cresting the top of a weathered hillside as the wheels of their vehicle dug deep grooves into the loose soil. With one final punch of the accelerator the Nomad shot forward.

It was a false top.

A panicked shout tore from Vetra's throat as the Nomad careened dangerously over one of Kadara's rugged cliff faces.

The uncomfortable sensation of falling twisted her gut and she gripped the base of her seat in an attempt to establish some feigned sense of security. Her talons cut deeply into the pliable leather as the hard surface below closed in upon them. Just as it appeared that the vehicle would be obliterated by the jagged boulders, Ryder ignited the Nomad's emergency thrusters and leveled out the bottom of the transport for a semi-smooth – although bumpy – landing. He pushed forward on the throttle and zoomed down a sulfur encrusted embankment before sliding to a messy stop at the edge of a small azure lake. The two of them breathed heavily and took a moment to allow their adrenaline to subside. As Ryder began shutting down the vehicle's systems, Vetra unbuckled her harness, pushed open the butterfly doors, and leapt out of the passenger seat in one fluid movement. She turned her head to look back at him over her shoulder.

"Next time? I drive." She said harshly.

He gave her a mocking thumbs-up before releasing his own harness and hopping out as well.

"Come on," he said with a playful shove, "it wasn't that bad. You know you love my driving."

Vetra did her best to look angry but she couldn't hold it. She broke into a smile and lightly jabbed her elbow into his side.

"Whatever."

He secured the locks of the Nomad and turned with a shrug.

"I'm just saying, my vehicular prowess kept us in one piece."

Vetra reached around him as he opened up the storage compartment that contained their equipment. She looked at him with a skeptical expression.

"It's also what almost turned us into scrap."

Ryder chuckled and secured his rifle to his back. He watched the turian with interest as she readied her gear and adjusted the velvet scarf around her neck. As she went through her usual routine, there was a unique grace to her movements that he had only recently begun to notice. It was little things here and there. The way she walked. The way she held herself during meetings. He even noticed the gentle way she grasped a cup with two hands as she sipped it absentmindedly. When they had originally been introduced, he had simply considered her a useful addition to the Pathfinder team. But as time progressed, whether it be on assignment or during down time, the two of them had begun to spend much more time together. If anything, Ryder felt that the two of them had at least developed a fairly solid friendship.

When they had both outfitted themselves accordingly, they carefully made their way down a clearly worn and eroded path. Stepping over a sun bleached pile of bones, Ryder opened his Omni-tool.

"According to my contact, the cache of supplies should only be about a mile or two across this valley. It's hidden, so we'll have to be careful not to miss it."

Vetra tripped on a loose stone and steadied herself before answering.

"Sounds good. So who's the contact? I know most of the smugglers, at least in passing, on Kadara."

He looked at his Omni-tool once more in an attempt to feign concentration.

"Seemed pretty new to the whole situation. Mentioned that he wanted to get in good with the Initiative or something," he said as he waved his hand dismissively.

She hummed to herself thoughtfully as they continued to hike through the uneven terrain. A wild adhi peered hungrily at them from the cliffs above but scampered away quickly when Vetra loosed a warning shot near its perch.

"Was it Tacitus? He's pretty fresh blood. Talks a big game but is really all bark and no bite."

Ryder shook his head and helped pull Vetra up the side of a large boulder.

"Nah, I don't think so. I think it was a salarian. But I'm not totally sure as all of our conversations were over voice communication."

Vetra grunted in the affirmative and kept pace with Ryder's walking. She looked around and made sure to listen out for anything suspicious. A few more minutes passed as they walked through the valley and she seemed confused when Ryder looked back at her.

"What are you thinking?"

She studied the area once more and eventually met his curious gaze.

"Doesn't it seem a little strange that we haven't seen any scavengers or outlaws around? Wide open spaces on Kadara are usually teeming with them."

He pretended to look around confused as well. Internally he was cheering. It appeared that Drack and Jaal had fulfilled their end of the plan spectacularly.

 **… ... ... ... ... ...**

 _ **A few days ago**_

One-Eyed Jimmy had been in some pretty tricky situations. He had surprisingly survived certain death a fair number of times. But despite all of his escapes from the perilous and his run-ins with demise, none of those times could have prepared him for this. Jimmy gasped for breath as a massive and armored foot dug itself into his sternum. A light cracking sound indicated that at least two of his ribs were now fractured. The scavenger wheezed in pain and the spiky head of an ancient krogan loomed over his face.

The krogan's voice was harsh and guttural.

"Are you still confused," he pushed his foot harder for effect, "Or do we have an agreement?"

Jimmy stared into Drack's emerald eyes and saw his own frightened reflection. The krogan's angaran companion casually wiped the dirt away from his targeting scanner before returning it to his head.

"We could always tie him up and leave him. The adhi have to eat as well."

Drack looked at Jaal as if truly contemplating the idea.

"It would be much easier," he mumbled as he looked back down at Jimmy. "But then we have to deal with all of his lackeys, and that takes time."

Jaal hummed thoughtfully.

"True. It saves us much trouble if we can just make a deal."

The smuggler looked back and forth frantically between Drack and Jaal. Neither of them seemed particularly worried with the fact that Jimmy was having serious difficulty breathing properly. He began to panic and beat his fists against Drack's massive appendage.

The krogan pushed even harder into Jimmy's chest and another couple of ribs fractured.

"I'm old and impatient. So make a choice before I make it for you."

Jimmy's vision began to go dark around the edges and he started to hyperventilate. He gave one more futile push against Drack's leg before he finally grunted weakly. The smuggler looked the old krogan in the eye and frantically nodded his head to indicate he was ready to parley. Drack pulled his foot off of Jimmy's chest and Jaal helped sit him up. After a few minutes of deep breathing, One-Eyed Jimmy finally spoke to the two strangers.

"You have a deal. My crew and I will pull out of this area and leave it to your band. This shit ain't worth dying over."

Jaal crouched down to get a better look at the battered smuggler.

"Good choice," he said cheerfully. "You have until tomorrow to completely clear the area, or my irritable companion will have much more to say to you. Now go."

One-Eyed Jimmy struggled to his feet and hobbled weakly towards his shuttle. Without a second glance, he climbed into the cockpit and flew off towards the port with his crew.

Drack looked at Jaal and chuckled deeply.

"That was much easier than expected," he said as he pulled a loose piece of bone from his armor and began picking his teeth with it. "We should probably call the kid."

Jaal nodded and activated his Omni-tool.

"Pathfinder, this is Jaal, do you copy?"

"I read you Jaal. Go ahead."

"The zone is clear. Drack and I will do a final sweep of the valley, but I have a feeling no one is going to bother you or this spot for quite some time."

Ryder responded positively and gave them the go ahead to finish up and return to the Tempest. Jaal closed out the transmission and Drack looked over at him with a slightly bored expression. The krogan lifted the crate of supplies onto his shoulder and jerked his head towards the adjacent hillside.

"Come on. The sooner we hide this thing the sooner I can go shoot something."

 **… ... ... ... ... ...**

 _ **Present Day**_

Ryder and Vetra descended carefully from the uneven hillside that they had spent the last hour or so hiking across. Just as they made it to the bottom of the ridge, Ryder's scanner set off an alarm. Looking at his Omni-tool, the scanner indicated that their intended target was just across the valley and midway up the next hill.

Vetra glanced at his scanner and pointed at the provided nav-point, "We're close. I can't wait to see what we find stashed away."

They continued their steady pace up the valley and eventually crossed over another embankment. The alarm on Ryder's scanner began to ring consistently as they closed in on the hidden supplies. Midway up the hill, a rock formation similar to an obelisk punched through the earth and provided a natural overhang against the elements. In between the rocks, covered in a thin layer of loose soil and shoved into a hollow space in the stone, rested their supply crate. Ryder saw it first and quickly pointed it out to Vetra. She laughed excitedly and crawled into the formation to pull the crate out of its hiding space. With a few solid tugs the crate came loose and she set it down on a flat piece of ground.

Ryder watched with anticipation as she snapped the locks of the crate off their hinges and flung open the lid. Vetra reached into the container and rummaged around a bit before sitting back on her heels with a confused expression. She looked up at Ryder, looked down at the contents of the crate, looked back up at Ryder, and flung her hands up in the air in exasperation.

"The guy that told you this was a worthwhile drop _really_ pulled your leg Ryder."

She reached back into the crate and pulled out two items. In one hand, she gripped a bottle of aged whiskey. In the other, she held a dextro compatible equivalent.

"There's nothing in here but some booze, a blanket, and what looks like a mix of levo-amino and dextro-amino food."

Vetra dropped the bottles back into the crate and stood up, patting dirt away from her legs as she did so, "I mean, I guess it's useful for keeping our supplies stocked. But next time we're using one of my contacts."

Ryder walked over to the crate and took a look inside. After a few moments, he knelt down and unfolded the blanket on a patch of earth absent of any sharp rocks. Vetra, utterly confused, watched his actions with interest. He laid the two bottles carefully on the blanket and arranged the food as well. When he was content with his setup, he took off his helmet and looked back at her.

"Surprise."

The smuggler blinked a few times unsure of how to react. She uncrossed her arms and placed her hands on her hips as she scrutinized the Pathfinder's work.

"Wait…What?"

He sat down comfortably on the spread out cloth and extended a hand out for her to follow his example. Still confused, she removed her helmet and sat cross legged across from him. He handed her the dextro compatible liquor and took a sip from the bottle of whiskey.

"On Earth," he said after taking another swig from the bottle, "we call this a 'picnic.' Friends get together, eat and drink together, and just enjoy the scenery."

Vetra inspected the bottle in her hand a few times before uncorking the lid and taking an extended draught of the contents. It had been far too long since she'd had the opportunity to enjoy expensive alcohol and she relished the warmth that coursed through her system.

"A 'picnic' huh?" She took another sip and relaxed a bit. "So this was all a ruse?"

Ryder laughed and nodded, "Sid was actually the one who put this plan into motion." He leaned back against a boulder and crossed his legs comfortably, "She said you needed to take more 'personal time.'"

Vetra laid on her side and propped herself up on one arm.

"Whose idea was all this?" she asked with a twirl of her wrist towards everything Ryder had set out.

"Well I came up with this bit, but I had some help setting everything else up."

Vetra contemplated his words quietly as she sipped from her beverage. Ryder looked at her for a moment before turning to appreciate the view of the horizon as the sun began to set over Kadara's wild expanse. She sat up once more and crossed her legs. This was all so very out of the ordinary for her and she didn't quite know how to feel about it. While it was appreciated, her upbringing had been a tough one and companionable niceties were something altogether foreign to her.

"Why?"

He looked at her quickly, a puzzled expression on his face. Of all of the things she could have said, 'why,' was nowhere near the list that Ryder expected. He paused thoughtfully before responding.

"I mean, isn't that what friends do? They do nice things for each other because they can. There doesn't really have to be a reason."

She pondered his words and nodded. She liked that.

"Well, thank you. Really. You're a good friend Ryder."

"And you're a better one Vetra," he said, smiling at her brightly. "Now let's relax and enjoy the view."

They both sat together comfortably, wordlessly appreciating the presence of one another in this quiet moment. As they sipped their liquor and snacked on their food, the harsh light of day gradually shifted into a more serene twilight. The final rays of daylight defiantly pierced through the swirling clouds and illuminated a cliff face that rose majestically over the Sulfur Pits. Vetra studied the rocks intently as the light began to fade and could only imagine what the view of the surrounding area would be like from that vantage point. Once the sun had completely receded from the horizon, the two of them packed up their materials and shoved the crate back into its hiding space. If they were lucky, this could be a regular place for them to get away from the craziness of the world.

Once everything was secure and properly hidden, they began they journey back to where they had left the Nomad. Climbing over the ridge once more, she turned back and looked in the direction of the formation that had been revealed by the dying light.

 _One day_ , she thought, _I would love to climb that mountain._


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:**

 **Hello Everyone! First off, I want to apologize for the longer wait that followed this chapter. As I wrote this section, every time I thought to end it, it never felt right. So, the result is the longest piece of writing I have probably ever done. But hey, it's cool, I'm happy to provide you all with more content :D**

 **Second, this chapter is where the story will begin to take a darker turn. At its core, this narrative is a love story. However, that does not necessarily mean it is going to be all sunshine and rainbows and fluffiness. It will get dark and it will get gritty. In the game, I feel that we don't really witness the psychological ramifications of the choices and horrors that we experience throughout the story. This is my attempt to flesh out those internal demons.**

 **Third, I am debating on either updating weekly or bi-weekly. Considering that my chapters have seriously increased in length, I may lean bi-weekly. Either way, you can expect future updates to be released on Fridays/Saturdays.**

 **Once again I hope you all enjoy the chapter! I really appreciate all of the support and kind words you have given me. It means a lot**

 **Best regards!**

 **… ... ...** **… ... ...**

It was a matter of common sense, widely understood amongst those endeavoring to remain unnoticed, not to involve oneself with the machinations of Kadara's warring factions. To do so would usually end with a bloody finality. For those unwilling to fester in the dirt and wanting to scrape together some form of existence, their only escape was to risk certain death within the ranks of either the tumultuous Exiles or the clandestine Collective. In the case of Grayson Wessler, he decided to take his chances as an enforcer for the Exiles. It was not an enviable position. True, he received some perks in regards to rations and personal accommodations. However, none of that helped him deal with the guilt of his actions. As an enforcer for the Exiles' unpredictable leader, Sloane Kelly, Grayson was tasked with collecting protection and residence fees from those living in Kadara Port. The fees were fairly substantial by themselves, but compound that price with the growing tension between the Exiles and the Collective, and the fees continued to grow exponentially month by month. It was a wonder in-and-of itself that anyone could afford to live in Kadara Port at all.

Those that paid could stay. Those who missed a payment were relocated – often by force – to the Badlands.

Grayson paced nervously as he chewed on the already barely-there nubs of his fingernails. He had fucked up. Badly. Collecting fees was, for all intents and purposes, an easy job. Albeit an emotionally taxing one. Regardless, he usually lost count of the people he spoke to due to the sheer number of fees that needed to be collected throughout the week. Small mistakes were expected and understandable. But this was bad. Very, very bad.

As Grayson continued to pace and chew, he spotted a few strangers walking towards the port elevator that led to the outer gate. He was out of options and desperate.

"Hey! You! You at the door! Could you come here for a second?"

The first stranger looked questioningly at his companions. He was framed by a slender turian with a dash of purple face paint across her mandibles and an old krogan with bleached bones attached to his armor. The turian looked in Grayson's direction and mouthed something to the stranger before he shrugged and strolled over to his position.

"What can I do for you?" the stranger asked holding out a hand of greeting.

Grayson grasped the hand respectfully and gave it a quick shake before responding.

"I'm Grayson Wessler. I'm an enforcer for Sloane Kelly and collect protection fees."

The stranger nodded in understanding.

"I'm Ryder, and this," he pointed to the individuals behind him, "is Vetra and that's Drack. I'm a Pathfinder with the Andromeda Initiative. What can I help you with?"

The enforcer wrung his hands together nervously before he answered.

"I messed up bad. I'm afraid Sloane might throw me out to the wolves if she finds out how bad."

"Relax, maybe I can help," the Pathfinder stated reassuringly, "What happened?"

"Well," Grayson said with a shaky breath, "At the beginning of every month we collect protection and residence fees from those living in the Port."

Ryder interrupted him briefly before letting him continue.

"You charge people to live where it's safe? To live away from danger? What happens to those that can't pay?"

Grayson looked down anxiously, his apprehension rising as the tone in Ryder's voice became interrogative. His friendliness had all but disappeared.

"It's part of Sloane's deal. You live in the Port, you gotta pay. And those that can't pay get kicked out to the Badlands."

The Pathfinder released a slow irritated breath. His frustration with the politics of Kadara had been building for the last week and this revelation had only added more weight to an already overburdened internal scale.

"And?"

Grayson saw the look in Ryder's eyes evolve from cordial to steely. He took a steadying breath before he continued.

"And, I collect from a lot of people during the collection period. I honestly lose track of names and faces. Everyone just becomes a number eventually."

Ryder took a step closer to Grayson. His demeanor professional but his presence intimidating.

Vetra appeared to notice the sudden shift in Ryder's behavior as well. She placed her hand gently on his shoulder as if to hold him back. He looked back quickly, a flash of anger revealing itself when their eyes met. Vetra's brow furrowed and her mandibles flared slightly. This was unusual for Ryder. His stoic professionalism seemed to be wilting little by little and being replaced by volatility. Worry began to root in Vetra's mind as she maintained steady contact with his gaze. She had never known Ryder to react this hot-blooded before.

Ryder's anger lasted for only a brief moment before it was replaced with recognition. He realized that he had crossed an unspoken boundary. Ryder nodded at Vetra with an unsaid apology before he returned a hard gaze to the man in front of him.

He took a moment to breathe deeply.

"And then?"

Whatever exchange had passed between the two strangers, he did not appreciate the stony look that lingered in Ryder's expression.

The enforcer swallowed. His throat was suddenly very dry.

"And I got some names mixed up and one of the people who paid their fee was accidentally kicked out. I feel horrible about what happened." Grayson began to pace again, "I need someone to go out to the Badlands and see if they can find her. I can't risk Kaetus, Sloane's second in command, finding out about my mistake."

"How…" Ryder crossed his arms and huffed with exasperation, "What are her chances of still being alive?"

"Honestly? She doesn't stand a chance on her own. Most that go to the Badlands don't come back."

The Pathfinder looked back at his turian companion and raised his eyebrow as if to ask 'what do you think?' Vetra simply nodded her head and Drack followed suit. They couldn't just leave someone to die. Whether they liked it or not, they were officially involved in Kadara's unsavory business.

Ryder looked back at Grayson. His gaze sent an uncomfortable chill down the enforcer's spine.

"I'll look for her. Give me a name and a place to start."

Grayson opened his Omni-tool quickly and pulled up the relevant information with an unsteady hand.

"Her name is Remi Tamayo. Everyone that gets evicted is sent to the Warden's gatehouse. It's located in the slums; just take the elevator down. He will probably know more about where she could be."

The Pathfinder entered the data into his own Omni-tool before he turned. As he and his companions walked away, Ryder looked over his shoulder back at Grayson.

"For your sake, you better hope she's alive."

It was subtle, as if they were concluding a passing conversation, but Grayson recognized the threat of retribution veiled within Ryder's words. In his mind, Grayson realized that the Pathfinder reminded him of a coiled viper. One wrong step, one wrong move, and he would strike without remorse.

The trio proceeded through the gateway and accessed the Port elevator. As the door shuttered behind them, Grayson resumed chewing on his abused fingers. With each disappearing layer of nail, he struggled to decide whether Sloane Kelly or the Pathfinder terrified him more.

 **… ... ...** **… ... ...**

The lights of the elevator shaft flashed in and out of existence. The hurried contrast between pale illumination and inky shadow produced a disorienting strobe effect within the interior of the descending machine.

Drack grumbled thoughtfully.

"You alright Kid?"

Ryder was uncharacteristically silent as the platform crept through layer upon layer of carved stone. He stood rigid, his arms crossed and his head slightly bowed. From Drack's perspective he looked to be thinking deeply. The old krogan glanced at Vetra and jerked his head in Ryder's direction as if to say 'you try.'

Vetra thought about what to do and chose to reach out and touch his shoulder again.

"Ryder, are you—"

"I'm fine." His reply was curt and pointed as he rolled his shoulder out of Vetra's gentle caress. That hurt her more than she would have liked to admit. The turian sighed and looked at Drack, unsure of what to say. Drack appeared pensive. His mind slowly churned through possibilities of what could be going on.

Although brash and prone to outbursts of violence himself, the krogan had recognized an unusual shift in the Pathfinder's character. Usually, Ryder was collected. He was by all measures a silent professional. But within recent weeks, Drack noticed that Ryder had developed an increasing disposition towards hostility. The Pathfinder, in his mind, had become a ticking time-bomb with a very short fuse – and the fuse had only gotten shorter while on Kadara.

An uncomfortable silence spread through the platform as they waited for the elevator to reach the bottom. Finally, Ryder spoke but his voice was laced with weariness.

"I'm okay guys. I just…" He looked at Drack and Vetra, but his gaze lingered on her. "This place just gets to me. The politics, the lies, the cruelty and injustice. The fucking _incompetence._ Almost everything about Kadara grates against my nerves."

Vetra took a small step forward. Only a few inches separated the two of them. She didn't reach out again, but her expression possessed an affectionate quality. Her mouth turned in a small frown of understanding.

"It's okay Ryder. Kadara has a shitty way of digging into even the strongest people."

They shared a silent moment and a small smile broke through the darkness pressing down upon him. He turned back around and stood with a more relaxed posture.

After a few more moments, the elevator finally descended through stone and opened into fresh air. As they stepped off of the platform, the cavern around them rose several hundred feet before it concluded with innumerable stalactites that hung precariously from the jagged ceiling. Shoved haphazardly into the far left side of the cave was what appeared to be a cramped and seedy bar. The flashing display on the tarnished exterior read 'Tartarus.' A fitting name – for a location at the bottom of society – if there ever was one. Built on top and around the bar were several overcrowded housing units that sheltered a number of downtrodden exiles. The reverberating bass of club music indicated that some form of life still endured in this dilapidated slum. It was a step above being relocated to the Badlands, but only just. Most of the construction appeared to be jerry-rigged from leftover scrap and salvage. One well-placed kick looked like it would send the whole area crashing down. Whatever force kept the structure standing was anyone's guess.

A small geyser in the middle of the hollow periodically spewed sulfuric laden water into the air that misted and swirled around them. Soft light from outside of the cave was caught in the dancing particulate and manifested itself as a decaying rainbow. The water that was ejected slowly pooled around the geyser and trickled throughout the cavern. While a mesmerizing shade of indigo, SAM, the Tempest's resident AI, noted that the liquid was caustic enough to rip through shields and armor in a matter of seconds. It was beautiful yet treacherous. Which, Ryder thought, was a perfect way to describe Kadara's contrasting character.

It only took a moment for the three companions to make their way to the Warden's gatehouse. When they entered, they were greeted by a motley crew of dirty, undisciplined, and altogether unkempt guards. The Warden, a young krogan with blue tinted scales and piercing yellow eyes, sat domineering at a long table as two bodyguards stood protectively on either side of him. A display of perceived muscle more than an actual threat. His gaze lingered uncomfortably upon Vetra before he regarded Ryder with disinterest.

"If you plan on entering the Badlands, you may want to reconsider. If you go out, you probably won't come back." The Warden leered at Vetra, "Which would be a shame."

Drack rumbled with a guttural warning and Ryder unconsciously took a step to his right to obstruct the Warden's line of sight. The younger krogan glanced at Drack warily. He recognized the challenge in the elder's body language.

"I'll keep that in mind." The Warden refocused on the Pathfinder as Ryder spoke, "I'm looking for someone who was relocated to the Badlands. I was told you're the person to speak with."

The Warden tapped absentmindedly at his console before responding. "Yeah, that's right. No one comes in or out without my say so," he continued to type away, "But why should I tell you anything?"

Ryder appraised the krogan with growing annoyance.

"Because I'm a Pathfinder with the Initiative," his fingers twitched as his hand inched towards his pistol, "And because I'm quickly running out of patience."

Vetra and Drack spared knowing glances with one another.

Ryder's increased willingness to use violence instead of negotiation only confirmed their independent suspicions. It was a subtle change, but the threads holding Ryder together had begun to fray. Anticipating an outburst, Vetra took note of the two guards behind her and Drack positioned himself closer to the Warden's bodyguard nearest to his right side.

The krogan looked up from his console with mild interest but quickly composed himself.

"Well why didn't you say so earlier Pathfinder?" He bowed his head in mock reverence, "What an honor it is to have an Initiative representative in our Port."

"I'm sure." Ryder opened his Omni-tool and impatiently recited the information Grayson had previously provided him, "The person I'm looking for is Remi Tamayo. Do you have any idea where she could be?"

"I may," The Warden stood up from his chair and attempted to appear intimidating. "But unfortunately Pathfinder, the Exiles have a standing rule not to make deals with Initiative dogs. I am going to have to ask you to leave."

The salarian guard behind Ryder moved to grab his arm and force him out of the door they had previously come through. Before the guard could establish a firm grip, Ryder twisted to the side, grasped the salarian by the back of his neck, and viciously smashed his face into the Warden's desk. A sickening crunch could be heard as the salarian's delicate facial bones were pulverized upon impact. As the guard limply fell to the floor, a long vibrant trail of blood streaked across the blemished metal.

Ryder drew his side arm and aimed it at the bodyguard directly in front of him. His cold expression gave little room for argument as to what would occur if the guard attempted reacting. Drack violently drove his head-plate into the second bodyguard's face and the unfortunate turian went sprawling across the floor. Behind Vetra, the two other guards, a human and another turian, attempted to rush her position. With practiced ease she quickly dispatched the first with a swift kick to the abdomen and the other with a solid elbow to the temple.

When their assailants had been dealt with, Drack and Vetra trained their own side arms on the Warden. Ryder signaled for the remaining guard to drop his weapon. The guard's rifle skidded across the floor and the Pathfinder redirected his attention towards the Warden.

With three weapons aimed at his vital organs, the Warden's scales began to itch uncomfortably. He raised his hands in surrender.

"Okay. Okay, I'll tell you what I know."

Ryder nodded.

"Remi Tamayo. Now."

The Warden scrolled quickly through his console as he looked for the pertinent information.

"Here it is. Tamayo. Kicked out for a missed payment; noted that she claimed she was innocent throughout the relocation process."

"Where was she last seen?"

"Last time anyone saw her was outside of the gatehouse speaking with a gang leader named Johan. Here's the navpoint."

Ryder returned his side arm to its holster and headed for the door towards the Badlands.

"I appreciate the assistance." With a hint of sarcasm he continued, "I'll make sure to put in a good word for you with the Initiative."

The Warden growled irritably as they exited and looked at his only conscious guard with disdain.

"Well? What're you waiting for?" He pounded the desk with a trembling fist, the action only making the recent dent worse. "Wake these fools up!"

 **… ... ...** **… ... ...**

As Ryder drove through the canyons that spanned Kadara's landscape, silence filled the cabin. Neither Drack nor Vetra were sure how to broach the unsettling subject of Ryder's deteriorating levels of control. Nor were they sure that this was the most appropriate moment to have such a conversation. Vetra opened her Omni-tool and sent a brief message to Lexi back on the Tempest.

 _Lexi, this is Vetra. We need to talk when I return to the ship._

A few minutes passed before she received a reply.

 _No problem. My door is always open. What's going on?_

I _can't go into detail now. Just wait for me to get back._

She responded quickly and closed out her messenger.

Vetra took a moment to contemplate the recent abnormalities in Ryder's behavior. As far as she could recall – the situation with the Warden notwithstanding – the only major outburst she had witnessed had been when Ryder cursed out both Kallo and Gil over the intercom. Beyond that example, although Ryder may have expressed his frustrations or vented his feelings more openly, he had maintained a fairly collected disposition around her. During their "adventure" through the Kadaran wilderness a few weeks before, he had been nothing but kind and considerate.

Before she could follow the rabbit hole any further, the Nomad skidded to an unexpected stop. As Drack and Vetra retrieved their bearings, Ryder's gaze was focused intently on the jutting structure ahead of them. At its base, a Kodiak class transport shuttle sat unmanned and unguarded. He traced the architecture of the structure carefully, taking notice of ambush points and blind spots. From the foundation of the building rose a large column which supported a lone habitation complex. The building itself appeared large enough to possibly accommodate upwards of seven occupants comfortably. In order to circumvent the steadily increasing incline of the valley rocks, a staircase rose from the earth and ended in a platform. Attached to the first platform was another staircase which bent at a ninety degree angle and rose into a secondary platform that functioned as the threshold of the complex's front entrance.

Besides the looming tower, the surrounding area was altogether barren save for a few stagnant pools of sulfuric spring water and sparse growths of regional flora. Vetra looked through her passenger side window and noticed that the ground around them spread out in every direction before it rose into a shallow bowl of uneven bedrock. Upon closer inspection, the malformed stone bore closer resemblance to an ancient impact crater than a natural tectonic formation. Ryder reignited the engine and carefully positioned the Nomad behind a neighboring outcropping in order to remain hidden from prying eyes.

"According to the Warden's navpoint, this is supposed to be where Johann and his crew have staked their claim," Ryder said, "But it doesn't look like anyone is around."

Drack racked his shotgun, "Doesn't mean they aren't on their way back."

"Then we should be quick," Vetra stated. "I don't want to deal with a band of angry raiders."

They exited the vehicle and readied their weapons as they cautiously made their way towards the structure. With practiced precision they maneuvered across the landscape and quickly climbed the stairs. When they reached the top of the platform, Ryder noticed dark elongated stains leading across the walkway and ending abruptly at the structure's entrance door. He activated his scanner and waited for SAM to analyze the blemishes. The Pathfinder already possessed an inkling as to what the marks were, but he wanted to be certain before his team continued forward. It only took a moment for SAM to confirm Ryder's suspicions.

"The stains are consistent with traces of human blood, Pathfinder. Multiple sources can be determined."

He was right. He hated being right sometimes. Ryder deactivated the scanner and shouldered his rifle once again. "This doesn't look good," he said to no one in particular. "Let's hope Remi is still alive."

Drack rumbled with wordless agreement.

When they reached the entrance, Ryder placed his hand firmly on the exterior.

"SAM, do a scan of the building. Is there anyone inside?"

Ryder's fingertips tingled with energy as the AI used his nervous system as a symbiotic amplifier. A low humming broadcasted itself within the periphery of his hearing as SAM inspected the structure through electromagnetic imaging.

"The construction is shielded from the outside Pathfinder, I am unable to complete an accurate scan."

Ryder removed his palm from the door, "No problem. Thanks SAM." He looked at his companions as he unhooked a flashbang from his chest carrier, "Quick and clean; check your corners."

With a swift swipe of his hand the door hissed open and he tossed in the grenade. A deafening _boom_ followed soon after in conjunction to a blinding flash of white light. Ryder stepped through first and quickly assessed the nearest left-hand corner. The area was empty of hostiles and he swung around to cover the side of the building parallel to his position.

"Clear left!"

Vetra entered behind the Pathfinder and turned tightly to scan the nearest right-hand corner for any enemy combatants. Her zone was also empty and she spun ninety-degrees to cover the far left corner.

"Clear right!"

Drack followed Vetra and barreled through the middle, scanning the far right corner for any activity.

"All clear!"

They each relaxed and took a moment to investigate their surroundings. The building was dark save for the faint daylight that leaked through the front door. Ryder felt along the wall for a light panel and noticed that the floor was slick and sticky beneath his boots. His fingers eventually collided with the raised metal of a power switch and he activated the lights.

His veins felt as if they had been filled with ice.

Obscured by the shadows but now completely visible, a pile of dismembered and disemboweled corpses littered the far right corner of the building. Wide pools of coagulated blood festered throughout the room and seemed to flood the floor. Spread across the interior as if someone had used buckets of blood to practice their splatter paint technique, arterial spray dribbled down the enclosure's walls. Although filtered away by the rebreather in his helmet, Ryder thought he could taste the sickeningly sweet scent of decay in the back of his throat. A few of the corpses appeared recent and had only progressed through the early stages of decomposition. To Ryder's horror, most appeared to have been there for at least several months. The eye sockets had sunken deeper into the skull and were now filled with a clumped gelatinous mess. As the bodies dehydrated over time, the skin that surrounded their mouths and lips resembled a shrunken piece of cloth as it was stretched over a too large frame. Each corpse lay as if haphazardly piled upon the other with no greater value than that of used trash.

"Spirits…" Vetra cursed quitely as the image burned itself into her memory.

Drack scowled silently. In his millennia of life he had witnessed an innumerable amount of atrocities. This was just another one of those inevitable moments.

Ryder opened his scanner.

"SAM, analyze these corpses. Can you determine any identities?"

The AI answered calmly, "Affirmative Pathfinder. I have logged their names and traced possible next-of kin on the Nexus. We will be able to provide this information accordingly when we return."

"Good. I guess that's something."

He looked over the room again and noticed what appeared to be a kitchen setup placed just beyond the mound of fetid flesh. Curious, he strapped his rifle to his back and searched through the few items spread across the counter. Besides a surprisingly well maintained knife and a soot covered pan, the area was barren. He looked through the cabinets and came up empty handed as well. This slaughterhouse was clearly not intended for habitation.

A light rattling could be heard and a weak voice called out, "Hello? Who's there?"

Parallel to the counter, on the opposite side of the building, a makeshift holding cell had been constructed. Although soldered together with scraps of rusted metal and other junk, the bars appeared solid and not easily tampered with. Vetra carefully inspected the lock before she turned to Drack.

"I don't know if I can crack this. You think you can handle it, old man?"

The krogan chuckled softly and rolled his shoulders, "Piece of cake." He gripped two of the bars in his large hands and begun to pull against the salvaged metal. His effort caused the iron to groan in protest as it gradually bent apart.

While the two of them focused on breaking through the cell door, Ryder inspected the discolored surface of the cooking pan. A few charcoal flakes detached from the bottom and delicately fluttered to the floor like ashen butterflies. Just as he was about to place the pan back down, he noticed maroon splotches up along the handle. He reactivated his scanner.

"SAM…" He paused, unsure for a moment if he truly wanted to know the answer. "Scan the pan. What can you find?"

Ryder looked in Drack and Vetra's direction. The door to the holding cell had been pried open. Vetra helped to support a human woman as she clambered clumsily out of the cell. Drack caught his eye and glanced at the pan in Ryder's hand. The krogan returned a knowing expression. He had already put two-and-two together.

SAM responded, "Pathfinder, there are several traces of human tissue. Multiple contributors and blood types as well."

He dropped the pan as if it the handle had branded him.

His breathing quickened. The familiar sensation of cascading adrenaline buzzed within his fingertips and coursed its way through the rest of his body. Kadara's everyday injustices were one matter. While they frustrated him on a foundational level, he did – or tried – his best to compartmentalize his emotions. Although he was aptly aware that his temper had begun to flare up on a more regular basis, and his reservoir of patience seemed to have relatively run dry, Ryder assured himself that he was in control of his behavior.

But this was different. Whatever threads of self-restraint remained were now gone.

He looked back at Drack and Vetra as they prevented the woman from collapsing.

"I'm Ryder, a Pathfinder with the Andromeda Initiative. Are you Remi Tamayo?"

The woman was clearly malnourished and her face was covered in bruises that ranged from dull yellow to vibrant rosy purple. Her nose bent at a violent irregular angle and the ghost of deep discoloration lingered just beneath her eyes. A small trickle of dried blood began at the corner of her bottom lip and ended just below her gaunt jawline. It was abundantly clear that Johann and his ragtag group of degenerates enjoyed to play with their meals first. While she attempted to stand tall in the presence of strangers, her legs resembled twigs in a windstorm as they trembled feebly.

Her voice was weak and hoarse. "Yeah, I'm Remi." Her eyes began to glisten, "How did you find me?"

Ryder spared her a comforting smile. "It doesn't matter. All that matters is that you're safe and going home."

Remi's features scrunched in confusion. "But the Warden kicked me out. They said I missed a protection payment. I know I didn't but they insisted otherwise. I was told I couldn't ever go back."

Ryder placed his hand on her shoulder gently. "I know. But the enforcer made a mistake," he said. "You're going home." He motioned to Vetra and Drack, "and my friends are going to make sure you get back safely."

The woman let out a shaky breath and laughed nervously to herself. "I thought I was going to die here."

"Not today," Vetra said as she gripped Remi beneath the armpit and led her towards the door.

Ryder remained rooted in place as Drack shadowed Remi and Vetra outside. The krogan noticed that he hadn't moved and called out.

"Kid, you ready to go or what?"

Vetra and Remi also turned around. Ryder glanced up and looked in their direction. He turned his gaze back towards the kitchen of horrors and focused on the reflective material of the knife. The Pathfinder shook his head in the negative and walked towards the counter.

"No. You both go on ahead and take her back to the Port; make sure she's safe. I can't let this continue."

He picked up the gleaming blade and noted the balanced weight as he evaluated its edge. Drack looked back at Vetra and grimaced. Vetra's mandibles shifted downward and her expression creased with worry.

"Ryder, we have to go. Now. It's only a matter of time before Johann and his crew show up."

His gaze rested on her contemplatively. Ryder recognized the foolishness in staying alone. But at that point, he truly didn't care. He craved violence; he desired blood; he sought justice.

With feigned impassivity he shrugged. "Which is why you and Drack need to go. Take the Nomad; I'll use the outlaws' Kodiak shuttle to return to the Port."

Vetra left Remi at the entrance as she stalked back inside the structure, her brow furrowed in astonishment.

"And what exactly is your plan Ryder? It will be you against a whole gang of outlaws!"

Drack crossed his arms and added his voice to Vetra's reproach.

"You know that I'm always ready to smash some heads Kid. But she's right. If we're gonna take these bastards out, we should do it together and make sure we don't end up eaten in the attempt." He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the corpses for effect.

Ryder's eyes narrowed and his mouth thinned with frustration. He was more than happy to put himself at risk, but he refused to put them at risk at the cost of his personal agenda.

"It wasn't a suggestion Drack. It was an order." He pointed at Remi, knife in hand, as she observed their exchange uneasily. "Get her back to the Port and report to the Tempest." He took a few steps closer to Drack, his posture communicated an open challenge. "Am I clear?"

The krogan glowered angrily as Ryder met his gaze with a venomous scowl. A few moments passed before a hint of recognition entered his mind and Drack released a long drawn out breath. He understood the rage that burned behind Ryder's eyes. Drack had felt it before, albeit when he was much younger and much more volatile. He knew that nothing and no one could stop Ryder's pursuit.

"Clear." He turned away and made for the door. "Vetra, let's go. We have a job to do."

Vetra gaped with disbelief. She had not expected him to relent so readily. She was about to step towards the Pathfinder when Drack caught her arm in a tight grasp and stopped her in her tracks. Vetra looked at him cuttingly. He offered no words. Drack shook his head sharply and pushed her towards the door.

She stumbled slightly and moved to walk past him. "But—"

Drack caught her by her upper arm once more. "This isn't something we can help with." Vetra struggled to pull away from him before he tightened his grip. "You can't stop him."

She looked at the old krogan with frustration and noticed the deep frown that creased his already weathered features.

"Trust me."

Her heart sank into her gut. Whether it be worry, frustration, or a combination of both, she wanted the slap Ryder as hard she could across the face and snap him out of whatever haze he had lost himself in. This made no sense. It was brash and it was stupid. If anything went wrong, he could be killed. That thought made her unbearably nervous. Although unwilling to openly admit it, Vetra was afraid to lose Ryder. They had become close friends. The thought of him being gone – possibly permanently – frightened her more than she could have ever expected.

Vetra looked in Ryder's direction one last time. She paused as she searched for the right thing to say but was unable to find the appropriate words. Reluctant, she turned around and marched outside. Drack positioned himself to carry Remi bridal style as the woman's abused frame struggled to support her weight. Vetra followed the krogan down the steps of the structure and looked back one last time. The door shuttered closed and the access panel flashed red indicating it was now locked. As they assisted Remi into the Nomad, the turian struggled to remain calm. Everything in her screamed to sprint back up those steps, drag Ryder out on his stubborn ass, and shove him into the backseat. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. There was nothing she could do now. All she could do was hope for the best.

Vetra buried her feelings under the necessity of the task at hand and opened her eyes with renewed focus. She turned to Remi with a confident air.

"Let's get you home."

 **… ... ...** **… ... ...**

The silence that permeated the bloody enclosure was reminiscent of an abandoned tomb. As Ryder rested amongst the desiccated corpses, he found the analogy an apt comparison. After Drack and Ventra had departed with Remi, he had taken measures to prepare for Johann and his raiders. It was only a matter of time before they showed up to finish preparing their "dinner." Ryder sifted through the bodies until he located one that was both fresh enough and similar enough to Remi's appearance. He dragged the emaciated frame across the floor and positioned it into one of the holding cell's darker corners. He forcefully bent the stiff joints into place and angled the torso over so that the face was veiled in shadow. Satisfied that the corpse could pass for Remi at a quick glance, he slid the holding cell door closed and secured it as best he could. Ryder hoped that Johann and his men wouldn't notice the damaged locking mechanism. Before he deactivated the overhead lights, he secured the knife he found on the counter to a position on his chest-rig.

It seemed only fitting to use the weapon against its owners.

With the lights turned off, the chamber was bathed in impenetrable blackness. It didn't require much imagination to conceive of the terror that must have gripped Remi as she quivered in her cell. Helpless and alone. Beaten. Ryder traced the handle of the blade with an armored finger. He sat behind a large container in the corner of the building and closed his eyes.

"SAM?"

The AI answered almost immediately, "Yes, Pathfinder?"

Ryder shifted his position slightly to find a more comfortable spot.

"The moment you detect life-signs, let me know."

"Affirmative Pathfinder."

Time seemed to slow to a trickle as the darkness closed in around him. It was claustrophobic. Yet it was peaceful as well. His body shivered with anticipation. The inferno within him demanded retribution. He had almost calmed his breathing when SAM's voice tore him away from his mental wanderings.

"Life-signs detected Pathfinder. I count four readings. Expected to be hostile."

Ryder pulled himself into a crouch and drew his sidearm from the holster on his right hip. In his left hand he primed his remaining flashbang grenade. The door to the building slid open and four disheveled outlaws entered. Johann walked in first and was quickly followed by three other nameless exiles. Ryder tightened the grip on his pistol. His trigger finger began to itch. A droplet of nervous sweat escaped his hairline and traced the bridge of his nose. As the four men began to laugh and make jokes, Johann walked up to the cell door. He tapped the cold iron and leaned his head closer to the bars.

"Remi, darlin', I hope you didn't miss me too much."

For obvious reasons the corpse didn't respond. Johann clucked his tongue as if reprimanding a child.

"The silent treatment? We already talked about this Remi. You know I find that behavior extremely rude." He paused again, waiting for an answer. "Do you want a repeat of last time?"

Silence. Johann slammed the cell with a stinging palm.

"Fine bitch. Have it your way." He whistled and the three other men looked in his direction. "Ms. Tamayo needs a refresher in dinner manners."

Ryder felt his heart begin to pound against the walls of his chest.

This was his moment.

The trio placed their rifles on the counter and removed their armored gloves. A disturbing glee spread amongst them as they reached for the door. One of Johann's goons pulled the gate and almost fell flat as it gave way with zero resistance.

"What the fu—"

This was his justice.

Ryder tossed the flashbang in between the four of them and ducked back behind his crate. A thunderous _BOOM_ filled the enclosed space and the men stumbled backwards as the subsequent flash of light blinded them. The Pathfinder pounced from his position with animalistic fury and quickly double tapped the first two bandits before smashing the butt of his pistol into Johann's face. His nose snapped with a satisfying crunch and Ryder attacked the third outlaw with a swift uppercut. The assault caught the man mid scream and the resulting impact caused his teeth to clamp shut over his tongue. A small quivering piece of flesh fell to the floor and fresh blood mixed with the old. As Johann thrashed on the ground and clutched his face, Ryder holstered his pistol and unsheathed the blade strapped to his chest. He yanked the tongue-less man's head back by his matted hair and stared deeply into the man's eyes. Absolute terror looked back at the Pathfinder and Ryder brought the edge of the knife to the man's throat. His grip tightened on the knife's handle as we bent down and whispered into the man's ear.

"For the lives you've stolen."

The blade sliced with astonishing ease and the man's throat split apart in a waterfall of fluid. Arterial spray coated the front of Ryder's armor and splattered across his helmet's visor. Warm blood trickled down the rivulets of his chest plate and soaked through the thin layers of his skintight under-suit. He would need a long shower after today.

Johann had halted his thrashing and now ogled the Pathfinder with a manic expression. Ryder walked over to the gang leader and glared maliciously. With ferocious intensity, the steel plated toe of Ryder's boot slammed mercilessly into Johann's side. The disheveled outlaw curled into the impact and coughed painfully. Ryder swung his leg back with fury and drove his hardened foot into Johann's side once again. An audible _SNAP_ revealed the internal damage the raider had just suffered. Johann gripped his legs to his chest as his fractured rib cage made each breath feel as if his lungs were on fire. While the raider wheezed pathetically, Ryder searched for something to bind Johan's arms together. As he hunted, the Pathfinder experienced a sadistic pleasure while listening to the gang leader's belabored gasps.

Stored away in the crate he had hidden behind moments earlier, Ryder discovered a weathered length of chain. He walked over to the wheezing Johan and roughly pulled him to his knees. The raider yelped in pain as his damaged bones ground against each other. Ryder yanked Johann's arms behind his back and tightly bound them together with the chain. Cold iron dug agonizingly into the sensitive flesh of Johann's wrists and thin trails of blood began to drip from his trembling fingertips. The Pathfinder gripped Johann by his constricted hands and forced him to stand. As the gang leader stumbled to his feet, Ryder shoved him forward towards the door. Once they were outside and headed for the stairs, a firm kick in the small of Johann's back pushed him off balance and he plummeted down the first flight of stairs. The sharp edges of the steel structure were unforgiving. A large gash opened itself just above the raider's eyebrow. Johann's already abused ribcage cracked once more and he cried in agony. He heard the Pathfinder rushing down the stairs.

Ryder's footsteps were staggered and irregular as adrenaline impaired his finer movements. His vision narrowed around the edges.

The beaten outlaw struggled to roll away. He angled himself into a slight upright position and looked up at Ryder.

"Look man, I don't know who you are. But I got a bunch of credits stashed away man. You lemme' go, they're all yours!"

Ryder stalked forward, his expression emanated nothing but rage. Wrath. Hate.

"Come on man! Please!"

The Pathfinder knelt down and gripped Johann by the front of his body armor. He roared defiantly into the raider's face.

Johann felt the ground beneath him disappear as Ryder lifted him off his feet and flung him down the final flight of stairs. He bumped and tumbled and crashed down the incline and came to a battered stop on the uneven earth below.

"Get up!"

Johann tasted blood as Ryder kicked him in the jaw. He attempted to get his knees under him, but his abused frame refused to cooperate. Ryder grabbed the chain that bound his hands together and pulled. The natural instinct to avoid pain overwrote his protesting muscles and he stood upright. As Ryder continued to pull upwards, the joints in Johann's shoulders grated in protest to the unfamiliar pressure. The Pathfinder dragged the gang leader to the Kodiak shuttle at the base of the complex.

"Where the fuck're you taking me?" He said weakly through a swollen lip.

Ryder opened the transport door and shoved Johann inside.

"Fuck you."

The uncontrolled fury in Ryder's demeanor disturbed the outlaw. It was too wild. Too animalistic. It was unpredictable and that scared the man. Ironically, it reminded Johann of himself and his men when they went out "hunting." With the tables reversed, a small chill crept up the raider's spine. Ryder slammed the shuttle door and entered the pilot's seat. He ignited the Kodiak's thrusters and hurriedly pulled off the ground and rose into a steady hover. As the Kodiak elevated into an acceptable height, Ryder pushed on the flight stick and the shuttle began to glide forward.

"SAM, scan for an adhi den."

The AI seemed troubled by Ryder's request. "Are you sure Pathfinder?"

Ryder scowled. He was in no mood to be questioned. "Just do it SAM!"

"Yes Pathfinder."

The shuttle continued on its steady flight path before the AI responded.

"Pathfinder, there is a large concentration of adhi one kilometer from our current position. Be advised, they are extremely dangerous in packs. I would advise not leaving the shuttle, else you may run the risk of being swarmed."

Ryder laughed humorlessly. "Good to know."

They reached the desired location in a matter of minutes and Ryder activated the shuttle's autopilot program. The Kodiak hovered several feet above the earth. Waves of dust and debris expanded out as the transport's thrusters blasted against the ground. Ryder exited the pilot area and activated the small hatch that separated him from the main body of the vehicle. Johann had curled himself into a corner and had attempted to wipe some of the blood away from his damaged nose and onto his pants. All his effort succeeded in doing was smear it around and make it look worse – if that was possible. He cowered as Ryder entered.

"Stay the fuck away from me man."

Ryder reached down to pick Johann up but the outlaw attempted to bite his hand. The Pathfinder jumped back and smashed his fist into the side of Johann's head. He crumpled to the floor with a pathetic whimper. As Ryder lifted him to his feet, the gang leader struggled in vain to free himself from the Pathfinder's grasp. It was hopeless, but even a caged animal will fight for its life. With a quick press, the shuttle door opened and nothing but open air met Johann as he was pushed closer to the edge. Johann began to squirm as panic gripped him. Dust started to scrape against his eyes as the force of the thrusters sent soil airborne and into the shuttle. He continued to struggle, but the faint press of steel against his throat caused him to stand perfectly still. Ryder's breath trembled as he applied the smallest amount of pressure. The outlaw gasped as the edge of the blade just barely cut into his skin.

"Come on. You don't have to kill me. I got credits. I know where to get women. Just don't kill me man!"

Ryder slowly pulled the knife away from Johann's throat. For a fleeting moment, a ray of rationality broke through the clouds of his blind passion. His resolve faltered as he recognized the cruelty in his next course of action.

Images of Remi beaten and surrounded by the dead flooded his mind. He pictured Johann and his crew laughing as they cut open another helpless and screaming victim. Ryder tightened his grip on the blade's handle. He refused to let this injustice go unpunished.

It was brief, but as Ryder paused, Johann foolishly believed he had convinced his captor to listen.

His hamstrings erupted with agony as Ryder slashed them open.

The Pathfinder kicked Johann over the edge and he plummeted to the compacted soil below. He landed with a pained wheeze and he gasped for air as the breath was forced out of him. Johann gazed skyward and saw the shuttle rise higher into the air and away from his position. Near enough to be seen but otherwise unnoticeable unless one chose to look up. His legs felt limp and worthless. Every attempt to stand caused him to scream in agony and collapse into the dirt. With the instinct of a dying creature, he inch-wormed his way across the jagged valley that Ryder had dropped him into. The chain around his wrists dug deeper into his flesh and caused his eyes to water. If there was hell, Johann thought, he may have just found it.

A low symphony of deep throated growls echoed behind him. His heart almost stopped with fright. He rolled onto his back to look behind him and realized that this was the end. An entire pack of adhi stalked towards him. Their haunches raised and their fangs barred, seven predators steadily closed in around their prey. He thrashed and yelled but the adhi continued to advance.

"Get away from me! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!"

His foot caught the pack leader in the snout and he froze. The creature's four emerald eyes narrowed into fiery slits and the Alpha released a blood curdling howl.

The pack swarmed him.

Ryder watched with grim satisfaction as the adhi tore Johann apart limb from limb. One of the feral creatures ripped off the man's leg and began to nibble away as the rest of the pack feasted. Before long, Johann was nothing more than a small pile of mutilated flesh and gnawed down bones. With a sigh he reclined in the pilot's seat and programmed the autopilot towards Kadara Port. His adrenaline began to quickly dissipate and every ounce of rage fueled passion was steadily replaced with exhaustion and slow comprehension. As his more rational faculties restored themselves, the reality of his actions relentlessly bombarded his psyche.

The knife was still clutched in his hand and light from the cockpit gleamed unnaturally off of the blade.

The Pathfinder looked at his hands. Red.

He looked down at his chest and legs. Red.

Everything was red. Ryder dropped the knife and it fell to the floor with a hollow _thump_. He clenched his eyes closed as his stomach churned. The horrors of the day refused to be suppressed; they gnawed at the edges of his consciousness and demanded to be realized. His mind seemed to flood with an ocean of gore, and around every corner of his thoughts, hollow eyes and gnarled faces occupied the darkness that he had failed to escape.

He placed his head into his hands in torment. In that moment, as silent screams filled his ears, Ryder understood that something inside himself had broken.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**

 **Hello Everyone! I hope you've all had a great couple of weeks since my last update. First, I just want to thank you all for taking the time to read my piece. It really means a lot. Second, thank you for all of the kind feedback and reviews, it really helps me improve and understand what I am doing right/wrong.**

 **Going forward, all of my updates will be on a bi-weekly schedule unless otherwise indicated. Having a two week writing process allows for my chapters to be polished and edited as needed. Plus, I don't feel rushed. I want to make sure I provide you – my audience – with quality material. I learned early that quantity does not equal quality.**

 **So, expect updates every two weeks on Fridays or Saturdays.**

 **Please follow, favorite, and review and I will see you all in the next update!**

 **… ... ... ... ... ...**

The Tempest's chief science officer hummed melodically as she sifted through the latest Nexus report regarding Heleus Cluster geological surveys and soil mineral composition. To the untrained eye, a dull and monotonous process. For an expert like Suvi Anwar, it was a treasure trove of hidden stories and untold history. As the secrets revealed themselves, she took a careful sip of tea and appreciated the mix of herbal tones as they swirled against her pallet. Suvi's eyes fluttered closed reflectively. It was a transient experience, the tiniest wrinkle in time, but the taste of warm lavender transported her memories to a location six hundred years away. To a life long since passed.

The living room of her childhood cottage unfurled before her like a familiar tapestry. She sat comfortably with her legs tucked against her chest and her too cold toes curled into the flannel blanket that was wrapped around her slight figure. In front of the weathered leather sofa that threatened to envelop her, a large fireplace roared with life. Dancing flames cast long ominous shadows against the faint ethereal glow of early morning twilight. Her faithful companion Karla, a blonde German shepherd, laid contentedly on the cushion next to her. Suvi had almost forgotten what home was like. With each deep breath, the nostalgic aroma of her father's woody pipe smoke filled her nostrils. Afraid that this moment would disappear, Suvi reached out a tentative hand to run her fingers through Karla's soft golden fur. She wanted to hold onto this this memory for as long as possible.

An audible _smack_ of flesh against metal pulled her from her reverie and the vision evaporated. Kallo was settled in the pilot's chair to her right with one slender hand balled against the solid support of his seat. His arm trembled and he yelled something into the comm unit which Suvi did her best to actively ignore. The pilot and the engineer had returned to their routine bickering over another ridiculous design gripe. Gil wanted to change something, Kallo wanted to keep it the same, and it all just gave her a frustrating headache in the end. The sudden interruption from her daydream left her feeling deflated. She got up from her chair and headed for the galley to both get more hot water for her tea and to escape the petty squabble. As she activated the panel to open the hatch separating the rest of the ship from the bridge, the adjacent access door to the Tempest's armory hissed open. Suvi looked to her right and recognized the Pathfinder as he shuffled through the entrance.

"Oh, Ryder! Welcome…back…"

Her cheery tone faltered and Suvi's words trailed off as she scrutinized the rest of Ryder's features. His eyes were dim and emotionless and his usually warm complexion was unnaturally sallow. The dark forest and earthy tones of his field armor were stained with splattered maroon. Ryder's movements were uncoordinated and his stride barely more than a weak shuffle. With each unsteady step forward, miniscule droplets of burgundy liquid fell and splashed upon the floor. Longer streaks of red dribbled down the polished grooves of his chest plate and arm guards and disappeared into the creases of his suit.

"Oh my god."

Suvi dropped her cup in stunned disbelief and the artfully crafted ceramic shattered into innumerable fragments. Kallo looked up sharply, his expression and tone reflecting his previous frustrations.

"Suvi, what are you—"

Similar to the science officer, the pilot's words perished before they could leave his throat. Kallo's eyes grew abnormally wide. It appeared as if Ryder had quite literally walked through a torrent of gore. The salarian actually forgot to breathe and only remembered to intake more oxygen when his chest began to tingle uncomfortably. Ryder shambled past Suvi and opened the bridge door with a weak swipe of his hand. She found her voice again as he passed her.

"Ryder," she reached to grab his arm but stopped herself as she saw uncoagulated blood run down the steel plating of his armor. "Are you alright? What happened?"

He continued walking without any indication that he had heard what she said. "Shower," was his only response.

The door shuttered behind him and Suvi and Kallo stared at the door and then each other in stunned disbelief. They struggled to wrap their minds around what they had just witnessed. Suvi walked back over to her chair and gingerly reseated herself. Her mind attempted to comprehend the amount of gore that coated the Pathfinder's frame. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that there was no way it could all feasibly be his blood. If it was, he would have surely died of exsanguination. She reeled at the implication and brought an unsteady hand to her mouth in disgust. Kallo watched as Suvi's eyes widened and her expression took on a shocked quality. He activated the communicator on his console and established a private connection with Lexi, the resident doctor.

The vid display beeped momentarily before the doctor's relaxed features greeted him.

"Yes, Kallo? What do you need?"

Kallo struggled to find the right words. He looked at Suvi whose expression remained horrified as she met Kallo's similarly disturbed countenance.

He stammered out, "Can you come to the pilot's area please? We have a bit of a situation."

As the door closed behind him, Ryder lethargically worked his way down one of the stepladders that connected the upper level of the ship with the lower living quarters. He eased himself down the rungs one by one and in the process inadvertently trailed several dark veins across the reflective metal. Driven into a haze by the memories of his actions, he instinctively entered the ship's shared shower space. With his thoughts occupied elsewhere, Ryder locked both entrances and wearily peeled the layers of his armor away from his body. He stripped the protective gloves off of his hands and threw them to the ground as he reached around his shoulders to unclasp the fasteners holding his chest piece in place. After a few seconds, the shaped metal collapsed to the floor in an unceremonious heap. With each piece that disappeared, Ryder's movements became more hurried and frantic. Ryder's gore covered skin felt like a physical shackle that he couldn't remove.

His greaves and boots were removed next and the fluid that had collected on his armor and within the crevices began to gradually pool upon the bathroom tile. The compressed under-suit he wore beneath his armor stuck to his skin uncomfortably. Pints of body fluid had saturated the fabric and now suctioned the material to his physique. Ryder twisted and pulled, but the zipper to the suit refused to budge. A small panic wormed its way into his gut and he pulled again with increased desperation. It remained stuck in position.

The Pathfinder flipped his chest piece over and pulled the stained knife from the location he had strapped it to. He couldn't explain why he had kept the blade. If anything, he had wanted to throw it off of a cliff and never see it again. But something, a small part of him, a tiny voice in the darkness of his mind, stayed his hand. It was a whisper. A veiled call that gnawed at the edges of his psyche which he refused to acknowledge. To recognize it was to make it real. To give it form.

As long as he ignored The Voice that echoed below the surface, he was free. He was whole.

With a swift stroke of the honed edge he separated the constricting fabric from his skin and freed himself from his gore sodden prison. Ryder activated the shower panel and water began to cascade from the spout; he turned the temperature to the point of nearly scalding and waited impatiently for steam to rise before he entered the steady stream. His skin felt as if it was burning when it came into contact with the flowing water but he failed to care. He braced his naked form against the shower walls with his arms outstretched and both hands pressed firmly into the steel interior. The Pathfinder watched as the entirety of the basin of the stall splattered into diluted rosy hues. Each layer of gore that removed itself from his weary frame was like a physical relief.

Ryder stood upright and closed his eyes as he gripped the back of his neck. He could taste the subtle tone of iron as he breathed in the rising cloud of mist. The muscles of his stomach clenched and he stumbled against the back wall of the shower stall. As he slid to the floor, Ryder was incapable of fully expressing the level of disgust that he felt towards himself. His palms trembled as he looked at his hands.

With palpable unease he examined the dried blood beneath his fingernails.

He could not escape the evidence of his actions. It lay piled in the corner of the room, dripping from his sullied equipment. It lay splashed around him, tarnishing the polished steel of the stall. It lay scattered and torn apart, putrefying under the heat of the Kadaran sun. It lay within the very halls of his mind, haunting the shadows that twisted within him. The Pathfinder lowered his head into his hands and grasped the loose strands of his hair. Lifeless eyes and gnarled faces continued to flit across the dark passageways of his thoughts. They whispered from within the gloom and beckoned him towards the void. Long buried eidolon clawed at the stone of their overgrown tombs, demanding to be witnessed, demanding to be remembered.

"No, no, no, no."

Ryder chanted to himself under his breath and squeezed his eyes shut. The muscles in his face and neck contracted as he painfully clenched his teeth together.

"Go away."

Johann's mangled face materialized from within the abyss and his clouded eyes looked deep within Ryder's heart. Shredded sinew and torn flesh pulled against each other as he smiled wickedly.

"Don't lie to yourself, boy." The gang leader's voice was inhuman and hollow, his words rolled out breathlessly as if air refused to fill the apparition's lungs. "Just roll with it."

Ryder clamped his hands over his ears in a futile gesture. The Voice originated from within, not from without.

"Fuck. Off." He growled through gritted teeth.

The mutilated likeness laughed maniacally. An unnaturally long tongue rolled out of his gaping mouth and Johann licked his ruined lips predatorily.

"Boy, I know what you're trying to hide." The phantom smiled with broken teeth. His maimed gums leaked clotted sludge down the expanse of his chin and neck. "You can be honest with me."

Ryder kept his eyes closed and his hands fell limply into his lap. He released a shaky breath and leaned his head against the cold steel of the shower wall. Ryder's fury driven execution of Johann and his posse replayed itself over, and over, and over, and over again in his head. With each passing repetition the Pathfinder felt his heart rate increase and his fingertips buzz with familiar intensity.

Something soft brushed against Ryder's cheek and his eyes shot open. Johann's mangled figure crouched next to the Pathfinder and he froze with indescribable dread. This was different than just a voice in his head. This was something tangible. This was terrifying. Warped and shredded fingers clutched his chin and twisted his head to the side. He looked directly into the creature's misty eyes and felt ice course through his veins.

"Admit it boy," Ryder felt ragged fingernails dig into his jaw as the revenant's grip tightened. "Just admit it."

He hated it. He wanted to deny it. With every ounce of strength he possessed, he attempted to free himself from the entity's decomposed grasp. The Pathfinder thrashed and pulled at the sinews of the arm that held him in place, but it was to no avail. Johann was right.

There was no escape.

 **… ... ... ... ... ...**

It had been a few hours since she and Drack had returned to Kadara Port with Remi Tamayo. Though bruised and slightly worse for wear, Remi had remained in good spirits when reunited with her family. After several awkward minutes of tearful thanks and uncomfortable hugs, the duo said their goodbyes and had returned to the Tempest as per Ryder's instructions. She would have preferred to venture out into the Badlands once more and make sure that Ryder was alright, but Drack had stopped her attempts down the access ramp. The old krogan had planted himself in front of her path and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully as he regarded her with an enigmatic expression. When he spoke, his voice was a low thoughtful rumble.

"During my eighth century, I worked some side jobs as hired muscle for an exotic goods trafficker."

Vetra shifted her weight to one foot and crossed her arms. She wasn't really sure where he was going with this. "Okay?"

The krogan frowned. "Let me finish."

She flipped her wrist limply as if to say 'go ahead.'

"One day, we got a job to transport three, maybe four, storage crates; they couldn't have been more than five feet by five feet. As far as we were concerned, our boss was transporting smuggled tech or maybe even poached goods. Either way, the credits were solid and we didn't ask questions."

Vetra leaned against the hull of the Tempest and sighed. "What's your point old man?"

He ignored her snide quip. "When we delivered the goods to the asari buyer – some well-to-do diplomat or whatever – the prick treated us like servants and made us open the crates for her. When we popped the tops…" Drack trailed off as he recalled the horrific contents of the crates. Even a weathered veteran like himself was occasionally stunned by the depravity of others.

He continued, "When we popped the tops, each crate was filled with five asari children laid side by side. Oxygen masks had been strapped to their faces in order to prevent suffocation, but some had died in-transit due to malnutrition or other complications."

Vetra's eyes widened at what Drack had described. The krogan ground his teeth momentarily.

"The diplomat had the gall to scold us because her 'product' wasn't 'delivered as desired.'"

Vetra couldn't help but ask, "What did you do?"

"I left. So did the rest of my team. We were criminals, sure, but that crossed a line for us. The only turian in the group, Craxis, some ex-special ops type, got this look in his eye. I can't put it into words, but I'll never forget it. What he saw in those boxes snapped something."

He looked up and caught Vetra's pensive gaze.

"A few weeks later, I heard through some of my contacts that my old boss, the asari diplomat, and her entire platoon sized force of security were found butchered. No one ever found out who did it, but Craxis disappeared soon after the news began to spread. Never saw him again."

"What are you trying to say Drack?"

"I've only seen that expression twice in my millennia of life." He held up his index digit for effect, "The first was on Craxis. The second," he held up his middle finger, "was on Ryder."

"Ryder isn't going to disappear. That's not who he is," she said as she frowned deeply. If this was Drack's idea of a pep talk, Vetra was not impressed.

"I know that, Vetra. All I'm saying is that like Craxis, the Kid is on a warpath that can only end one way – with _a lot_ of blood. We need to be prepared for the aftermath. Whatever it is."

The turian released a heavy breath. She really wanted Drack to be wrong. It was a slim chance, but Vetra hoped that Ryder had realized the recklessness in his decision and followed them back to the Tempest. Reality nagged in the back of her mind and she did her best to block out the fact that the Pathfinder would have already returned before them. With a rough pat on the back, Drack left her where she stood on the access ramp and walked back inside the starship. Only made more anxious by the old man's tale, and with little else to do but wait, Vetra halfheartedly followed behind him. While the krogan headed towards the galley to scrounge together an adequate meal, the smuggler made her way back towards the cargo hold. She flopped down onto her cot and groaned grumpily. She hated waiting. Patience was definitely not a virtue in her case.

It was only a few minutes before she sat up with a huff and activated her Omni-tool in search of any new messages that could hopefully distract her. To her annoyance there was nothing. Drack's story repeated itself in her head and she eventually began to pace the length of the cargo hold.

"Dammit Drack." She planted her hands on her hips and glared at the floor. It was not in her character to just wait around for something to happen.

Unable to focus on anything but the knot in her gut, she exited her tiny abode and sought out the med-bay. Vetra remembered that she still needed to follow up with Lexi about her previous message. When she entered the doctor's office, the asari was typing away at her console and taking complicated notes on what appeared to be some abstract medical procedure. The doctor turned and smiled as the smuggler sat next to her on one of the examination beds.

"Hello Vetra, how can I help you?

She returned the doctor's smile, but it did not quite reach her eyes.

"Hey Lexi. Remember that message I sent you this afternoon?"

Lexi finished the final paragraph of her notes and positioned her chair to face her companion.

"I do. You said you wanted to talk about Ryder?"

Vetra sighed, "It's kind of a long story. But I think something might be wrong."

Lexi's warm demeanor shifted to that of a focused medical professional.

"What is it Vetra?"

The doctor listened intently to the turian as she recited the day's earlier events and confrontations. Lexi frowned while she documented the systematic fragmentation of Ryder's characteristic composure. If what Vetra said was true – and Lexi had no reason to discredit her as an unreliable source – it was evident that their stoic captain had begun to struggle under the pressure of his inherited role. Although he may have maintained a solid exterior for a few months, it appeared that the burdens of being Pathfinder had finally drained his reservoir of self-control. Considering the responsibilities that the role demanded, elevated levels of stress were an understandable and expected byproduct. However, with a more fleshed out understanding of Ryder's behavior while in the field, the asari suspected more at play. As far as she could tell, while becoming more predisposed to confrontation, Ryder had maintained a level of practicality. He could be reasoned with but lacked a large supply of patience. Conversely, based on Vetra's account of events, the Pathfinder's sudden shift towards violence only came to a problematic head when he had discovered the raiders' cannibalism. Lexi could not deny the obvious foundational taboo around such a subject. However, most sane actors, especially those regarded for their tactfulness and professionalism, would not abandon reason over such an act. Outrage was one thing, a one-man mission was another.

 _Curious,_ she thought.

Lexi looked up from her datapad and appraised her companion's troubled expression.

"Vetra, Ryder is both resourceful and capable. I'm sure that he is fine. He may be passionate at times, but he is by no means stupid."

Vetra scoffed and considered her with a skeptical air.

"If attacking an outlaw gang leader without back-up isn't stupid, then I don't know what is."

As much as she tried to remain a neutral third party, Lexi had to agree that it was an irresponsible choice. However, embodying the role of a constant and reassuring force, she did her best not to reveal her true thoughts. Vetra remained hunched over and played with her hands worriedly as Lexi reclined in her seat and crossed one leg over the other comfortably.

"I have no doubt that he will return to us safe and sound. We just need to be patient."

Vetra stood and began to pace. Patience was something she sorely lacked at the moment.

"I swear, I'm gonna smack the shit out of him when he gets back. Stupid, stubborn, reckless human." She scowled and crossed her arms. It was easier to be angry than to deal with the unease that wormed through her.

The doctor was about the reassure her once more when the vid-message indicator on her Omni-tool began to ding rhythmically. She activated her equipment and Kallo's wide-eyed expression revealed itself.

"Yes, Kallo? What do you need?"

It looked as if the salarian was at a complete loss for words. His eyes shifted unsteadily between her and some unseen point of interest off screen. Kallo looked to his right as if listening to someone speak and opened and closed his mouth wordlessly before he stuttered uncomfortably.

"Can you come to the bridge please? We have a bit of a situation."

Lexi noted the rising panic in the pilot's voice.

"Kallo, what's wrong?"

Vetra watched the back-and-forth with interest and focused on the salarian's shaken expression. Whatever was going on, something was definitely unusual.

"I can't explain. Just come up here."

The line of communication was severed and the video on Lexi's Omni-tool went dead. Vetra looked at Lexi as she stood and picked up her data-pad. Without a word, the two of them exited the med-bay and headed towards the cargo bay elevator which provided easy access to both the upper and lower levels of the Tempest.

Through a ghost of a smile Lexi said, "I hate using those ladders. This is much more convenient."

Despite herself, Vetra chuckled and nodded in agreement. When the elevator rose to the upper deck, the two of them walked briskly to the bridge. Upon their entrance, both Suvi and Kallo spun to look at them. They both stared, but neither spoke a word of greeting.

"Kallo, what is going on?"

The pilot swallowed and opened and closed his mouth in an attempt to speak, but he was incapable of finding the proper words. Suvi took a deep breath and attempted to calm her own nerves as Kallo looked at the doctor blankly. With visible unease, she was finally able to communicate.

"Lexi it's…" she paused and looked at Vetra, "…it's Ryder."

Vetra felt her throat plummet into the bottom her feet. She took a few steps towards the science officer.

"What do you mean? Is Ryder hurt? Suvi, what's wrong?"

She didn't mean to sound so panicked, it was far too vulnerable for her liking, but her voice took on a life of its own. Whatever feelings she may have suppressed or ignored bled through the tone of her words.

"He's not hurt. Or, he didn't appear hurt," Suvi said.

Lexi looked at Suvi critically.

"Suvi, what's wrong with Ryder? More importantly, where is he?"

Kallo finally seemed to rediscover his voice and he cleared his throat before joining the conversation.

"The Pathfinder has returned to the Tempest." Vetra's shifting expression reflected her instant relief, but it was a short lived moment as Kallo continued, "Lexi, I don't know what happened or what he did, but Ryder looked like he had taken a bath in someone's blood."

Both Lexi and Vetra looked at the pilot in disbelief. Suvi visibly shuddered as she pictured Ryder's exhausted appearance and gore soaked exterior once more. She noticed the incredulity shared between the doctor and the smuggler.

"He's telling the truth. It literally ran down his chest plate. I even saw a few drops fall onto the floor over there." The science officer pointed to a space near the bridge door.

The doctor stepped over to where Suvi was pointing and crouched to get a better look at the burgundy droplets that had spattered across the ground. Lexi activated her Omni-tool and opened her scanner. After a few moments, her medical VI confirmed that the substance was in fact human blood. However it did not match with Ryder or any of the other human crew's DNA markers.

She stood upright and traded glances with her three companions, "It's definitely blood. But it's not Ryder's and it's no one else's on the ship."

"But," Vetra started, "if the blood isn't Ryder's then whose is…"

Her words trailed off and Vetra froze. Understanding fell into place as her mind recalled what Drack had told her earlier outside of the Tempest.

… _just like Craxis, the Kid is on a warpath that can only end one way – with_ a lot _of blood._

She cursed under her breath.

"Suvi, where did Ryder go?"

"Uhhm…" The science officer thought back to what the Pathfinder had said as he passed her. "Oh! I think he went to the crew quarters; he mentioned taking a shower!"

Vetra spun on her heels and stepped out of the pilot's area with Lexi right behind her. As they climbed their way down the access ladders, Vetra noticed maroon marking on every other rung. Kallo was right: Ryder was soaked through to the point of leaving a trail. When they reached the crew area, Lexi walked up to the bathroom door and pressed the side of her head to the cold steel surface. She could hear running water, but zero movement otherwise. Vetra watched the doctor uneasily.

"So?"

Lexi shook her head, "Nothing. Just the shower."

"Well what should we do? I don't—"

Vetra failed to finish her sentence as the sound of shattering glass pierced through the doorway.

 **… ... ... ... ... ...**

Ryder was cold. His body felt weak and every ounce of strength that remained had been allocated towards fending off the phantom that wandered the halls of his mind. Despite the blistering water that rained upon his form, he was freezing. Johann's revenant had elucidated something within himself that the Pathfinder had buried for a long time. Something that he had refused to acknowledge for years even before embarking on the six hundred year one-way trip to the Andromeda Galaxy. If the Heleus Cluster was all about a fresh start, Ryder had hoped his ghosts would have stayed in the Milky Way. To his chagrin, they traveled with him across the infinite void of space.

Apprehensive, Ryder opened his eyes and looked around the bathroom. It was empty save for himself and swirling clouds of vapor. The apparition was gone. He released a shallow breath and felt his heartrate calm by a fraction.

"Okay. Pull yourself together. It's not real. It's all in your head. Come on."

He stiffly stood to his feet and stretched his cramped muscles as he stepped out of the shower stall. The water was still running, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care enough to shut it off. His thoughts had wandered somewhere else; somewhere darker; somewhere he had locked away in the name of self-preservation. The steam from the heated liquid had billowed throughout the confined space and quickly accumulated on the large mirror that hung above the sink. With a weary swipe of his palm, Ryder cleared out a clouded area of the glass and braced his weight against the ridges of the basin. His knuckles turned white as he clutched the sides of the bowl. He stared blankly and tried his best not to think. Not to remember. Ryder's gaze slowly trailed upwards into the mirror, but it wasn't his face that reflected back at him.

Johann's pale eyes leered from behind the fragile dimension, his posture identical to that of Ryder's. The shade's frame was twisted and mangled and black liquid seeped from the gashes and holes that littered his ragged and exposed flesh.

"I'm not real, boy? I'm just in your head? Now that is offensive."

Ryder could do nothing but gawk numbly. His body froze. The gruesome aftermath of what had occurred to the cannibal displayed itself with disturbing detail and clarity.

"This is very much real," the vision flourished a hand as if showcasing the broken pieces of its body, "don't think you can deny the glories of your handiwork."

The Pathfinder willed his eyes closed and attempted to block out Johann's words.

"You're not real. You're only in my head. Go away."

A maniacal cackle echoed through the walls of his mind. Ryder could almost see the wicked smile that formed around the voice in his head as it said, "I am your masterpiece."

Ryder clenched his teeth. He refused to listen.

"You have really gotta get it together. I mean, you killed me and even I feel sorry for whatever this is," the phantom said nonchalantly. Johann's lips turned up slightly as if he suddenly found something funny. "Y'know, I wonder how Sasha would have reacted to your unhinged state."

Ryder's entire body tensed as he stared wide eyed at the vision beyond the glass of the mirror. That was it. The thing he had tried to bury for so long, brought back to the surface through a psychotic proxy. In an instant, the Pathfinder's features morphed from dumbfounded to homicidal and his trembling hands balled tightly as if of their own accord. Johann's shade observed the Pathfinder with an indifferent air and shook its head in disappointment.

"It's too damn easy with you."

With deadly intent, Ryder drove his fist into the middle of the reflective surface and splintered the fragile material's center into glittering shards. A long fracture snaked its way from the brittle wound and ascended unevenly until it reached the uppermost edge of the glass. As the fissure concluded its path upwards, the rest of the mirror began to tremble due the lack of structural integrity. Johann's mocking gaze remained amongst the brittle pieces, his features spread out amid a million other fragments, disfigured into a gruesome mosaic.

Small droplets of fresh blood oozed from Ryder's damaged skin onto the already ruined bathroom tile. He drew his arm back once more and struck the unstable material a second time. Maroon splotches streaked across the jagged material and glittering slivers embedded into Ryder's bruised flesh. In his rage, the Pathfinder failed to recognize any pain and desired nothing more than the opportunity to rip Johann apart limb from limb himself. Yet to his disappointment, there was no way for him to torture a dead man. It was impossible to harm a manifestation that existed solely in his psyche.

Already struggling from the Pathfinder's initial onslaught, the fractured mirror crashed to the ground in a mesmerizing curtain of sparkling shards and dancing light. The splintered fragments impacted the solid surface of the floor and broke apart even more upon the sudden end of their descent. Shimmering dust swirled around Ryder's feet as he sneered at the damage before him. Large globules of blood continued to fall from his knuckles and shone amongst the refracted fluorescent glow – a striking dash of color amidst a cold sea of lifeless silver.

While his chest heaved as he breathed deeply, his heart pounded against the walls of his chest. Ryder clenched and unclenched his hands, the gouged skin around his right knuckles stung as the ragged flesh stretched against the bruised bones underneath. It was a satisfying pain.

The door to the bathroom hissed open.

Lexi entered first and was soon followed by Vetra. The addition of two more occupants seriously cramped the already limited space of the facility. Ryder's earlier scorn quickly dissipated and he took a step back towards the far wall. He was very confused and he gripped the towel around his waist to prevent it from slipping embarrassingly downwards. The two invaders focused their attention on the shattered remains scattered throughout the area as well as the stained pieces of armor that had been shoved into the corner. A small pool of blood had collected as the equipment remained stationary.

"What the hell are you two doing!?" He almost yelled as he looked back and forth between the doctor and the smuggler.

Vetra studied the glittering mosaic on the ground, focused on the bright red blemishes spread amid the glass, gawked at the maroon stained pieces of armor piled into the far corner, and finally scrutinized the still leaking gashes along the surface of his hand. She took an irritated step towards his half-naked form.

"Us? What about you? You return to the Tempest, tell no one that you're back—"

Ryder attempted to interrupt and indicate that Suvi and Kallo had seen him, but Vetra was having none of it.

"They saw you by default; they don't count!" She took another step forward, "What is wrong with you Ryder? What happened on Kadara!?"

All of her pent up emotions had bubbled to the surface and had released themselves with a passion that she had not expected. Her nostrils flared slightly and her mandibles trembled unconsciously. The smuggler's concern expressed itself as anger. While she refused to admit it, Vetra had been scared and the latest course of events had only exacerbated that fact. Ryder's expression softened and a look akin to shame wrote itself across his ragged features. His eyes revealed the burden that weighed upon him, and Vetra noted the lack of fire within him. He looked defeated.

By all accounts, he felt sundered.

Vetra still felt her anger swirling within her, but she recognized that there was a better time and place for such a reaction. For now, there were more important issues to attend to. She looked back at Lexi who had observed their interaction with interest and similarly noted the vulnerability in Ryder's demeanor. There was something that clearly weighed upon the Pathfinder's conscience. The doctor stepped passed Vetra as the turian moved to stand out in the hall and reached for Ryder's hand. He flinched backwards as her gloved fingers made contact with his skin, but he quickly composed himself.

"Sorry," he said.

The doctor smiled companionably and shrugged her shoulders as she said, "It's alright, no offense taken."

Ryder held out his hand and Lexi quickly assessed his ruined knuckles.

"You don't need stitches, just a few bandages. But I'm going to want to flush out the wounds to make sure no glass remains in the lacerations. We don't want it getting infected." She released Ryder's hand and it dropped to his side limply. The Pathfinder looked tiredly at the doctor and attempted to smile, but it came out as a grimace. He had quickly realized how exposed his internal conflicts had become.

Lexi became contemplative as she observed his deflated disposition. "Get dressed, Ryder. Then meet me in the med-bay so I can take care of that hand."

"Okay."

With a nod, Lexi turned and walked out of the bathroom. She closed the door behind her for the sake of privacy and studied Vetra's lined features as the turian lost herself in thought. She jumped slightly when Lexi patted her lightly on the arm.

"He's going to get dressed then come to the med-bay." She paused and asked, "Are you alright Vetra?"

Almost out of reflex, she nodded as she said, "Of course."

"Well I'm glad. Once I take care of the Pathfinder, feel free to come to my office if you want to talk some more."

As the doctor returned to the medical ward, Vetra tapped her foot impatiently while she waited for Ryder to exit the bathroom. She didn't have to wait long, but to her confusion, Ryder was still wrapped in his towel. He noticed her questioning look.

"I never actually grabbed a pair of clothes before getting in the shower so…" He trailed off unsure of what else to say. Vetra grunted in the affirmative as he turned and headed towards the Pathfinder's quarters. The room to his cabin slid open and he walked inside with a brief backwards glance. He turned the corner and disappeared from her line of sight. His door remained open and she was unsure if he had left it unsecured on purpose.

His voice echoed into the hall. "You can come in if you want." Ryder quickly followed up with, "I'm dressed."

Curious, she walked into the room and found him sitting on the bed as he was tying up the laces of his boots. The Pathfinder had donned a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of what humans called 'jeans.' He finished lacing up his shoes and looked at her thoughtfully as he leaned forward with his elbows braced against his knees. Ryder's face scrunched uncomfortably as self-loathing continued to rise within him.

"I'm sorry, Vetra."

Vetra stood in front of him and her frown relaxed by a fraction. She closed her eyes as she breathed out meditatively and reflected on the sincerity of his tone.

"We can talk about it later." She looked down at the crusted edges of his knuckles, "How's your hand?"

He held up the damaged appendage as he looked it over. "It stings, but otherwise its fine. Just a few shallow cuts. Nothing serious"

Vetra nodded and tilted her head towards the door.

"I guess you should get going, yeah?"

Ryder looked away from her and frowned. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and Vetra noticed the muscles in his neck flex as his jaw tightened and relaxed repeatedly. The Pathfinder looked at her once more, his expression conflicted. His thoughts and emotions were usually something he kept close to the chest and locked away from the scrutiny of others. Yet as he considered his actions on Kadara, and struggled against the darkness that encroached on his mind, he was afraid. He was afraid of himself, of who he had become, and of what he had done. Ryder's mind swirled with broken images of Johann and his men, and the blood that stained his memories only solidified the belief that he was no longer himself.

It was like he could feel himself ebbing away, and the moorings of his sanity continued to be nipped and nibbled by the shadows that haunted him.

He situated himself near the far side of the bed and made space for her on the mattress. Ryder smoothed out the spot next to him as an indication that she could sit if she wanted to. She eyed him curiously but tentatively lowered herself near his hunched position. Only a few feet of distance separated them from one another, but to him it felt as if a canyon lay between them. Ryder looked at Vetra and a vulnerability that she had never seen before revealed itself. It was raw and it was pained and it made her want to hold him close for reasons she was unprepared to examine. She pushed the feeling away and focused on the haunted look in his eyes.

"What is it Ryder?"

He released a long breath and his gaze hardened, "We're friends, right?"

It was an unexpected question, but she nodded. "Of course. I'd probably consider you the best friend I have on this ship, or anywhere if I'm being honest."

Her honesty spread a subtle warmth through his chest and encouraged him further.

"I'm glad. I would have to say the same." He looked at the ground again and sighed warily before asking, "Are you sure you want to know what happened?"

Ryder could feel his fingers digging into his knee and Vetra noticed the coiled tension in his weary frame.

"If I didn't want to know, I wouldn't have asked."

He chuckled lightly at her statement. "I guess that's fair."

Ryder's gaze again focused on the ground at his feet and his grip tightened around his leg. This topic clearly made him uncomfortable. As a sign of support, she covered his hand with her own and lightly curled her slender fingers into his palm. She squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"What happened?"

He looked down at the fingers that wrapped around his hand, unsure of how to react. While Ryder would be lying if he said that he didn't enjoy the physical contact between them, part of him felt uncomfortable with the closeness. It was something that indicated familiarity and acceptance, and the Pathfinder doubted Vetra would feel any of those things when he revealed the truth to her.

Vetra felt his hand relax in her grasp. She watched the features of his face crease together as his fingers slowly reciprocated and briefly wrapped around her own. It was brief, but in that moment, she could have sworn she saw the pain in his expression give way to fleeting calm. They were friends, and she wanted him to be open with her. To feel like he could trust her and rely on her even when he doubted himself.

Ryder shifted his gaze from their hands and looked her in the eye. His eyes danced to and fro as he scanned her worried features. Perhaps he needed a confidant; a light in the darkness; a stalwart companion to pull him back to his feet when he stumbled. Against the raging storm that buffeted his heart, a genuine smile spread across his fatigued features like a brilliant sun parting looming thunderclouds. Yet even in this moment of respite, as he tried to focus on the friend that supported him, The Voice echoed in the darkness.

He almost told her. He nearly revealed the truth of his actions and the horrors that he had so easily committed. With his hands he had dealt swift vengeance in the name of justice, but at the cost of his conscience. Ryder had been baptized through blood, and the ink stained his hands with an invisible mark that only he could see. It was the mark of a monster. The mark of man who took life not because it was right, not because it was warranted, but because he enjoyed it. The Pathfinder had discovered pleasure in taking Johann's life, had reveled in the moment as the raider's flesh was torn from his bones.

The Pathfinder's hands were tainted. But Vetra caressed them gently, unaware of what had truly taken place in the wilderness. No. He did not deserve such kindness or such care. She deserved better than himself. If he deserved anything, it was a cage.

Just as quickly as it had appeared, his smile had vanished and was replaced with a cold seriousness. The sun had been once again blocked out by the maelstrom. Ryder quickly released his hold on her and stood, creating further distance between himself and the smuggler. With quick strides he walked towards the door and looked at her briefly.

"We'll talk later. You're right, I should go see Lexi now."

Before she could say anything in response, he was gone. His door shuttered behind him and Vetra found herself alone in his cabin. She was confused, concerned, and conflicted all at the same time.

In the silence that engulfed her, Vetra became keenly aware of how cold her hand now felt.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:**

 **Hello Everyone,**

 **I just want to profusely apologize for being late on getting this chapter out. Work has been a little hectic and writer's block decided to hit me lag a bag of bricks for a few days. Fortunately I was able to get back into the groove of things relatively quickly. I will do my best to make sure to have my next chapter published on time, I promise!**

 **This chapter is somewhat shorter than the previous one, but I am happy with how it turned out. I really hope that you enjoy it as well.**

 **As a side note, I listened to the song "Some Familiar…" by Slow Meadows while writing. Very melancholic melody and really fitting for the overall tone. If you have a chance, I would recommend checking it out/listening to it while reading.**

 **Thank you once again for all of the support and kind words, it really means a lot and helps me to continue to improve.**

 **Best regards,**

 **Equinoctis**

 **P.S.**

 **For those unaware, a couple of weeks ago fanfiction was running into a glitch where story updates were not being sent out. I took the time to pretty much contact everyone that is currently following me, but in the event that you have not read Chapter 5 yet, and are suddenly seeing a Chapter 6, I just wanted to provide reassurance that I updated "Luck Runs Out on You" May 6** **th** **, 2017.**

 **… ... ... ... ... ...**

In order to survive as a successful smuggler, potential aspirants need to exhibit two very important traits: a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue. If a wannabe trafficker happens to lack one or the other, the greenhorn will more than likely be dead within a year and disposed of in a shallow unmarked grave. To say that being at a loss of words was tantamount to suicide would be an understatement. As one of the best bootleggers in the business to have traveled to the Andromeda galaxy, Vetra Nyx possessed both qualities in equal measure. In her vast catalogue of experience, she had never run into a situation where she didn't know what to say or how to react effectively. Vetra had learned from an early age that it was wise to stay at least three moves ahead of those around her.

Sitting alone in Ryder's room and staring at the closed door in front of her, the usually immaculate chessboard in her head had been all but demolished. For the first time in her life she didn't know how to respond.

Part of her half expected Ryder to walk back in and apologize for just leaving her in his cabin. While she may have felt comfortable being in the space while he was there, for whatever reason it made her somewhat uncomfortable to be in there unattended.

 _Stupid_ , she thought as she shook her head.

Vetra stood quickly and took a few quick steps towards the door before a disembodied voice startled her and stopped her in her tracks.

"Pardon, do you have a moment?"

The calm voice of the Tempest's artificial intelligence emanated from a small console that rested on Ryder's desk. Once Vetra had neared the table, a shining blue orb materialized from the circular device and transitioned intermittently between bright cyan and deep indigo.

"SAM? Damn, you scared me."

"My apologies, I intended no harm."

She waved her hand dismissively as she said, "Don't worry about it." Confused as to why SAM had chosen to address her at all, she asked "What did you need?"

An almost inaudible hum resonated from the AI's projection. The tone and length of the expression eerily reminiscent of a person organizing their thoughts before speaking.

"I am sure that you have seen the state of the Pathfinder."

Vetra vividly recalled Ryder's volatile behavior and unsteady demeanor.

"I have. He's been 'off' lately," she said thoughtfully, "But I can't figure out why."

"You are correct. As you already know, as part of the Pathfinder program, microscopic biotic implants have been interwoven into Ryder's nervous system. In effect, I can hear, see, and feel what he thinks and does."

A brief grimace punctuated her expression. She found the prospect of an outside entity aware of every private emotion or action unsettling. That feeling was quickly replaced when she realized the implication behind SAM's statement. Vetra sat in the chair at Ryder's desk and faced the floating orb.

"So you're saying that you know what happened when Drack and I left him?"

SAM whirred in the affirmative as he said, "Correct."

Her fingers tapped the armrests erratically as her brow furrowed with slight confusion.

"SAM, why are you telling me this? I don't think Ryder would want you going around and broadcasting what's in his head."

The hovering ball of light lowered to her eyelevel and pulsated with pale cerulean waves.

"True. However, given the circumstances, I believe sharing what he is experiencing will serve a greater purpose than if I allowed the Pathfinder to struggle alone."

Vetra may have agreed with the AI's reasoning, but remained uncertain as to her role.

"But why tell me? I'm sure Lexi is much better equipped to handle things like internal emotions and such."

"Lexi is a medical professional, you are not."

She twisted her hands slightly in the air with an exasperated look. "That's kind of my point SAM."

A low buzz similar to sigh escaped from the console.

"You misunderstand," the AI said, "Lexi is a doctor, but you are his friend. If the Pathfinder confides in anyone, it will be you."

For the second time in the same day, Vetra was dumbfounded. A thousand different questions ricocheted through her mind as she worked to understand what SAM meant. It was true that she and the Pathfinder had developed a fairly solid friendship. They had supported each other through several difficult missions as well as saved each other's hides in equally harrowing skirmishes. Despite their developing relationship, there remained a boundary that neither of them seemed willing – or able – to cross. They each remained oblivious as to where their feelings had begun to converge. Ever the realist, Vetra had brushed it aside as a growing fondness born of teamwork and success. In Ryder's case, he was too preoccupied with the past to acknowledge the possibilities of the present.

As more questions and even fewer answers bombarded her thoughts, she struggled to focus. With serious mental effort she finally asked the AI, "Why?"

SAM did not immediately respond.

"SAM?"

"My apologies; I was debating the best possible answer." The virtual representation of the AI swelled to a larger size and seemed to get closer to where she was sitting. Vetra slid the chair back a fraction out of reflex. "I cannot explain much, as that would be a breach of the Pathfinder's confidence. However, I can say that Ryder views you as more than just a teammate – although he may not fully realize it himself."

Vetra tilted her head slightly as she listened to SAM explain himself.

"Although the Pathfinder may keep most of the crew at a certain distance, he has allowed you to become closer than most. To reiterate, the mental barriers that he has established as protection are often absent when he is alone with you."

While she was certainly willing to do what she could to help Ryder, Vetra had never been particularly good with feelings or vulnerability. Too many years of barely scraping by had hardened her to some of the kinder aspects of life. Nevertheless, the smuggler continued to listen intently and ask questions.

"So Ryder is comfortable around me; how does that help in the long run?"

"In the search for Remi Tamayo, you, Drack, and the Pathfinder discovered a secluded bunkhouse. As an extension of Ryder's consciousness, I can say with confidence that what was witnessed in that building unearthed trauma that had been long since suppressed."

SAM's claim piqued her curiosity. It also made her worried. Vetra sat up straight and leaned her arms against the desk as she asked, "What kind of trauma, SAM?"

The hologram shrunk down and smoldered dully like a dark azure ember.

"Even as interwoven as the Pathfinder and I are, I remained unaware of the actual details until today. Unfortunately, due to the nature of the memories, I cannot in good conscience openly reveal the specifics of events that occurred before our joining. That said I am willing to explain to you what is tormenting him in the present. Even as we speak, I am connected to his mind."

Still weirded out by the details of SAM and Ryder's symbiosis, Vetra did her best to focus on the bigger issue.

"Okay SAM, so there's some 'red tape' regarding his past. That's fine for now. You still haven't really explained how Ryder being comfortable around me helps anything though."

"My apologies, perhaps I am getting ahead of myself."

She shrugged with an air of nonchalance and looked at the radiant globe intently waiting for the AI to provide an explanation.

"Without you, Vetra, Ryder may never heal."

 **… ... ... ... ... ...**

Aside from the subtle rustling of rough fabric against skin and the occasional beeping of varied medical devices, the med-bay was awkwardly devoid of conversation. Ryder sat silently across from Lexi as she deftly secured sterile bandages around his hand. While the lacerations that crisscrossed his skin were altogether free of glass particulate, his knuckles and surrounding flesh had been deeply bruised. As a result of the moderate swelling, the new wrappings felt constricting and caused his entire hand to throb uncomfortably. He winced and a brief hiss of air escaped his lungs as she tightened the material around his flesh. With one final tug, the doctor tied off the fresh dressings and leaned back in her office chair as the Pathfinder remained sitting on the examination bed adjacent to her desk.

The doctor watched silently as he absentmindedly fiddled with a dangling thread that protruded from the edge of his bandage. Wholly occupied by the errant strand, Ryder untangled the piece even further and looped it around his finger.

"If you keep playing with that, I'm going to have to redress your entire hand."

She chuckled as Ryder's movement stopped and he looked up with a concerned frown. A wry smile spread across her face as she continued, "And I will make the bandages even tighter than they already are."

He sighed with resignation and held out the offending material.

"Can you cut this for me then? I'll just keep fidgeting with it otherwise."

She nodded and retrieved a pair of medical scissors from her desk drawer. With a quick snip, the thread was removed, and Ryder began to clench and unclench his hand.

"Hurts more than I expected," he said absentmindedly.

Lexi crossed one leg over the other and clasped her hands around her knee. "Well, that does tend to happen when you punch something solid."

Ryder glowered and looked up at the doctor's open expression. Lexi displayed neither humor nor disappointment, she simply returned his gaze with calm professionalism that betrayed nothing of her thoughts. The doctor was often difficult to read, and he currently lacked the patience to even want to attempt to figure out what was going on in her brilliant mind. Suspecting that she would endeavor to discuss the incident with him, he stood from the examination bed and moved to make his exit.

"I need to go clean up the mess I left in the restroom," he said as an excuse to escape.

Lexi's voice stopped him before he could take more than a few steps.

"Ryder, before you go, I would like to talk with you about what happened."

His hand froze above the access panel and his posture had no desire to share what he felt or had been contemplating. However, he knew that if he left, Lexi would only hound him with even more determination in the near and inopportune future. Ryder's palm lowered to his side but he remained facing the door.

"In regards to what, exactly?" he asked, a sneaking suspicion tumbling through his gut.

Lexi lifted her data-pad from the top of her desk and began to type brief snippets into the device.

"For starters, what happened out on Kadara?"

The Pathfinder turned slowly, his expression dark. Of course. Lexi wanted to pry into _that_.

"We rescued an exile, and returned her to safety. I had Vetra and Drack escort her back to the Port while I stayed behind to investigate further. After I was satisfied with my findings, I returned to the Tempest."

The doctor raised an eyebrow at his lacking explanation of events and delivered a critical glance.

"We both know that isn't the whole story." She flattened the data-pad against her knee and folded her hands into her lap. "Either I can psychoanalyze you, which I know you're not particularly fond of, or you can explain to me what really happened when you were alone in the Badlands."

Ryder crossed his arms and leaned against the far wall as Lexi remained seated on the opposite side of the room. "We both know that no one becomes covered in blood simply by traipsing through a dusty countryside," she said as a follow up.

Whether he liked it or not, Lexi knew more than he had originally anticipated. Considering the state he was in as he boarded the Tempest – covered in gore and barely aware of his surroundings – Ryder recognized that he had produced far too many ripples for this issue to remain hidden for long. Regardless of his personal feelings there was no way he could get out of this impromptu session without explaining at least a portion of what had occurred during the search and rescue operation. To his disappointment, the opportunity for secrets had long since passed.

"You're right. They don't."

He leaned further into the wall and maneuvered himself into a crouching position as he lowered to the cold floor until he was sitting. A low groan escaped his lungs as he collected his thoughts and directed his mind back to that dark room and the horrors hidden within. Walking through his memory, the very walls seemed to whimper pitifully amongst the depravity that stained the soiled interior. Forgotten bodies and nameless faces flashed across his mind as they grimaced with pain and terror. Ryder wanted to do more. Every cell of his being screamed in protest to the injustice that lay at his feet. But it was too late. They were already dead and long forgotten, brutalized and cannibalized because they were deemed expendable.

As he dove deeper into the shadows, his rage began to roil once more. Reflexively, he reached across his chest as if to grasp the handle of the knife. Gripping onto nothing but air, he realized it still lay amongst the shattered mess in the bathroom. While he mentally replayed the day's events, Ryder could almost feel the weight of the blade in his hand as it cut through muscle and sinew. In the moment, in the pursuit of some misguided sense of vengeance, it had brought him pleasure and satisfaction. Now it only filled him with regret.

"I waited for them, and I killed them."

Lexi uncrossed her legs and leaned slightly in her chair.

"Who did you kill?"

Ryder looked up at the florescent lights before finally returning the doctor's focused gaze.

"A gang leader named Johann and a few of his crew. The first three were easy; I killed them pretty quickly. It was violent, but it was clean. Johann…" The Pathfinder's words trailed off as he remembered forcefully beating, kicking, and throwing the outlaw down several flights of stairs. "With Johann, I dragged it out." He could see the agony in Johann's features as he sliced apart the outlaw's hamstrings. Ryder visualized the vivid terror in the cannibal's countenance as he came face to face with the pack of feral adhi.

"I made him suffer."

The doctor's fingers danced across her device as she listened intently to Ryder's words. Eager for him to open himself up to her and explain what was weighing upon his conscience, she gradually pressed him for further details.

"Why? What did Johann and his gang do?"

An expression of discomfort creased Ryder's features and his hands rubbed anxiously against the fabric of his jeans.

"They killed people."

"I see. Who did they kill?"

Ryder pinched the bridge of his nose before he responded.

"Innocent people."

"Do you know who these people were?"

He looked at the doctor with an irritated expression. Although Ryder had provided sparse amounts of information thus far, his reaction to her questioning only confirmed that she was on the right track.

"No," he said. A deep seated sense of guilt ached within him as Ryder realized that he had not taken the time to retrieve any DNA samples from the numerous bodies. If he had, they could have been cross referenced against the Nexus's personnel database. They could have been remembered.

Due to his lack of foresight and blind desire for petty vengeance, the victims would remain unknown.

As he contemplated the issue more deeply, Ryder only helped to incense himself further.

Lexi could detect from his curt response that the Pathfinder was rapidly shutting down and raising the walls around himself once more. It was clear that if she wanted to know the whole story, she would have to keep chipping away at the barriers he had erected. Undeterred the doctor cleared her throat and continued with her inquisition.

"Can you tell me why Johann deserved to suffer?"

Ryder's jaw tensed and he exhaled slowly. Lexi was heading into a direction that he did not want to travel and asking questions that he did not want to answer. The deeper the doctor probed, the closer to the surface topics which he wished to ignore became. More importantly, he possessed no desire to expose this facet of himself regardless of her medical duties or supposed responsibility. Determined to end this charade before it reached a point of no return, Ryder jumped to his feet and made for the exit.

"I appreciate the talk, but I really need to clean up the mess I left in the restroom. I don't want anyone else to stumble upon it."

Lexi attempted to speak in protest of his departure, hoping to reach some type of breakthrough, but Ryder had already opened the door and departed before she could string together a coherent sentence.

"Damn," she said to herself as she slumped back into her chair.

Embroiled in thought, Lexi watched the flashing lights of the access panel as she tapped her chin rhythmically. The lyrical chirping of medical equipment accompanied her methodical finger beats and she spun slowly in her chair. If their discussion provided any indication of the future, it was clear that the Pathfinder would not be forthcoming with his thoughts and feelings.

She drummed the tips of her fingers repeatedly against the surface of her desk and frowned with frustration. Above all else, Lexi wanted to help Ryder heal. However she could not fulfill that goal if the Pathfinder refused to speak to her about more personal details. A low grumble escaped her as she distractedly chewed on her bottom lip. While a method to coax their captain into the open was sure to exist, it had not yet revealed itself to the doctor.

 **… ... ... ... ... ...**

Cleaning up the disaster he had left behind had turned out to be much easier than previously expected. Given all of the shards of glass and dried up blood, Ryder had predicted he would have been preoccupied for at least several hours. However, a few swipes of the vacuum here, and a few passes there – and ignoring the fact that the mirror itself was missing from the wall – it was if the glass had never been broken. More surprisingly, given the material of the surface of the floor, the task of removing the aforementioned dried blood had been relatively effortless.

Satisfied that the confined space was relatively spotless, Ryder now faced the complicated task of sanitizing his now soiled field gear and armor. The separate pieces lay clumped together upon a towel that he had dragged to the entrance of his cabin.

Not wanting to create another scene, Ryder figured it was best to finish the job in his quarters away from inquisitive eyes. As the Pathfinder activated the cabin door's access panel, he recalled that he had abruptly deserted Vetra in his room. In the wake of his internal conflict, he had abandoned her without any indication of when or if he was going to return.

A brief moment of panic gripped his chest. It was already too late. He could not stop the door from opening and he could not hide the pile of armor at his feet.

Just as the hatch opened, he rushed forward in the vain hope of obscuring Vetra's view.

As he quickly scanned the small area, Ryder breathed with relief when he found the space empty. He walked back towards the door and pulled the pile of gear towards his desk. The door quickly closed behind him and he thought back to the tone that their previous conversation had taken.

Cognizant of the fact that he had driven their moment together to a negative place, Ryder was in no particular rush to speak with his turian companion. For the sake of self-reassurance, he determined it was best to simply let the air settle for a bit. In reality, he felt unbearably awkward about the whole situation. Ryder had come far too close to revealing what had occurred while in the Kadaran countryside and he was determined to keep it secret for as long as possible. He did not want anyone else meddling in his personal affairs.

Having drawn the doctor's attention, Ryder knew that he would need to remain cautious; given enough time, Lexi would certainly concoct some scheme in the hope of worming her way into his head.

"One problem at a time Ryder. One problem at a time."

The Pathfinder flopped into the chair by his desk. Suddenly overcome by a wave of exhaustion, he closed his eyes and supported his head with one hand. His mind was a jumble of sound and fury and no matter what he did it refused to stop whirling. With each passing breath Ryder felt his body release incremental amounts of tension. Despite the pressing need to scrub the muck away from his armor that lay on the ground, sleep gradually overtook his senses.

He breathed in deeply, and exhaled heavily. Silence slowly crept through his consciousness and the shadows that plagued him were muted by an even heavier blackness. The halls of his mind were still for the first time in quite a while.

It was bliss.

While the final vestiges of awareness began to slumber, an errant thought escaped from the murky enclosure.

 _I wonder what Dad would've thought about all of this…_

Dad. The word reverberated violently within his skull. It illuminated powerful feelings of contrasting intensity. Both anger and reverence battled against one another in a fight for dominance and remained locked in a perpetual stalemate. Ryder's father was a sensitive topic riddled with unresolved conflicts and unexamined emotions. Once more, another straggler revealed itself.

 _I should take some time to at least visit Dad's grave..._

Cold realization coursed through Ryder's sleep addled brain. The icy horror forcing the darkness away and shocking him back to awareness. His eyes snapped open and he failed to stop himself from yelling with a tinge of panic.

"SAM!"

The blue orb materialized out of thin air from the circular console on his work table.

"Yes, Pathfinder? Is everything alright?"

Shallow breaths hissed through his lungs as he stared wide-eyed at the ball of pale light.

"SAM. Where is my dad? What happened to his body after we returned from Habitat-Seven?"

Expecting an immediate response, the AI's silence put his nerves on edge.

"SAM? Did you hear me?"

Weak pulses of energy edged along the immaterial walls of the hologram as the image visibly shrunk in size.

"Yes, Pathfinder. I did."

Ryder stood from his chair and braced his hands against the table as he leaned closer to the console.

"Where is my dad, SAM?"

Disbelief was the one emotion that Ryder could effectively identify as he eyed the AI's projection. Blinded by the initial shock of the aftermath of events on Habitat-Seven, Ryder realized there was a blank spot in his memory. As far as the details of his father's death were concerned, nothing existed save for a hollow void.

Ryder was utterly caught off guard by his lack of knowledge. How he had never taken the time to inquire about the status of his father's remains evaded his understanding.

Still mentally reeling, the AI finally answered Ryder's question with drawn out reluctance.

"We did all that we could, Pathfinder."

It was a simple question, there was no reason for SAM to drag out the answer.

"But there were complications."

Ryder's grip tightened against the smooth metal of the desk. His palms felt clammy as anxiety gripped his core.

"The Kett swarmed our location; we needed to evacuate back to the Hyperion as quickly as possible."

He sat back down and failed to calm the pounding in his chest. The edges of his vision darkened as everything focused on the indigo sphere.

"I'm sorry Ryder. But in the chaos, we had to leave your father's body behind."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:**

 **What's up everyone! I hope that you are all doing well. I know that I have been gone for a little bit, and for that I apologize. This chapter kind of got away from me and I just couldn't stop working on it. Which, I guess turned out to be in your benefit, as this chapter is a pretty sizeable chunk of content (it's also the longest chapter I've ever written).**

 **I hope it gives you something satisfying to chew on!**

 **Again, I just want to thank everyone that has taken the time to read my story. Also, to everyone that has favorited, followed, and reviewed my piece, you guys/gals are awesome. It really means a lot to me.**

 **Enjoy the new chapter and I'll see you in the next update!**

… … … … … …

The crew of the Tempest slumbered peacefully as Kallo sat alone at the helm of the ship. Aside from the dull hum of the drive core, and the sporadic chirping of navigational alerts, the bridge was deathly quiet. He checked the time on his omni-tool and watched as the display shifted from 0312 to 0313. It had literally only been a minute since he last checked the clock and Kallo sighed heavily. Three more hours of mind numbing silence before Suvi awoke and relieved him of his post. Kallo despised down time and absolutely dreaded the night shift. As a salarian, his mental faculties operated at an accelerated pace and a lack of tasks to complete or projects to work on forced him to slow down.

"It's unnatural," he said to himself, complaining to deaf ears as the stars twinkled indifferently beyond the observational glass. He watched a comet flash brilliantly in and out of existence against the inky darkness. "This should be considered cruel and unusual punishment."

Although he took his job as the pilot of the Tempest quite seriously, the salarian often found it difficult to focus when covering a double rotation. During regular hours, the hustle and bustle of the Pathfinder's duties usually kept himself and the crew on their toes; they were often hard pressed to find a quiet moment when occupied with Initiative business.

He checked the time again. 0315. His head fell back against the top of the pilot's seat and he groaned like a petulant child.

"Kill. Me. Now."

Kallo had begun to seriously contemplate the merits of launching himself out of the airlock when he heard the door to the bridge hiss open.

"Oh, thank goodness Suvi. You're kind of early, but I was going out of my mind with boredom," he said without turning around. A deep yawn escaped him and Kallo wiped an errant tear away from his large orb of an eye. "There is literally nothing going on. So I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to read another book about rocks."

The pilot smirked to himself as he stood from his chair and stretched. Kallo turned around, prepared to make another joke at Suvi's expense, but surprise silenced him when he noticed that she had not been the one to enter the bridge.

With a wild demeanor, Ryder rapidly closed the distance between the entrance and where Kallo stood. He walked passed the pilot as if he did not exist and began to frantically activate the navigational controls of the galaxy map. Kallo took notice of the manic expression that occupied the Pathfinder's features and felt unsure of how to respond.

It had been less than a day since both Suvi and Kallo witnessed Ryder's dazed return to the Tempest. Despite their insistence to know if the Pathfinder was alright, no satisfactory explanation had been provided to either of them as to why he had shown up covered in blood. Lexi had repeatedly assured them that Ryder was fine and that whatever was going on was under control, but Kallo remained skeptical. Suvi trusted Lexi implicitly while he harbored a sneaking suspicion that the truth remained elusive. As a matter of principle, secrets made him nervous.

"Uh…Ryder?"

The pilot received no response as the Pathfinder continued to zoom in and out of locations on the Galaxy Map. Whatever he was doing, it was clear that Ryder was actively searching for a specific location. Kallo warily moved closer towards the console that Ryder occupied.

"Pathfinder," he asked, his words laced with trepidation, "what's going on?"

Though it was clear that Ryder was wholly focused on whatever he was doing, Kallo had not expected to be completely ignored. He awkwardly hovered a few feet behind the Pathfinder, waiting for an answer that would not come. For a moment the pilot considered poking Ryder's shoulder to get his attention, but quickly thought better of it. The Pathfinder was his commanding officer after all.

After several more minutes of silence, he had resigned himself to the fact that Ryder wouldn't be gracing him an answer any time soon. Taking the initiative, Kallo called out to the ship's AI.

"SAM?"

It was only a moment before the AI's disembodied voice quietly reverberated within the interior of the bridge. "Hello, Kallo. How may I be of assistance?"

"What is he doing?" Kallo asked as he glanced back towards Ryder.

"The Pathfinder is attempting to set a course for Habitat-Seven," the AI explained as Ryder typed a set of coordinates into the navigational controls.

Kallo frowned with confusion, "But the field reports clearly indicated that Habitat-Seven is unstable. From what I can remember, travel is highly discouraged by Initiative leadership."

"You are correct on all accounts," SAM confirmed.

The pilot's brow furrowed even further as he failed to understand Ryder's motives. As far as Kallo could tell, Habitat-Seven was a no-go zone.

He looked back at Ryder as the Pathfinder jammed his finger against the control panel. Every impact was met with an error alert that looped infinitely as he stubbornly attempted to force the galaxy map to cooperate. Each press of the activation button was punctuated by a hiss of frustration as the program refused to plot the desired course.

Finally, after several more futile attempts, Ryder bellowed with irritation. "God dammit! SAM, what the hell is wrong with the map?"

"Investigating Pathfinder, please standby," SAM said, his level intonation a stark contrast against Ryder's fiery countenance.

An uneasy air settled over the bridge as Kallo and Ryder waited for the AI to finish running his diagnostics. No small talk or pleasantries were exchanged while SAM worked. In an effort to fill the quiet, Kallo hummed an old salarian folk tune. Despite his horribly off key rendition, Ryder still failed to acknowledge the pilot's presence. For all intents and purposes Kallo may as well have been invisible.

Ryder adjusted his ridged posture and braced his weight against the hand rail separating the galaxy map from the piloting area. His finger drummed against the metal siding impatiently and he tapped his toe to the same restless rhythm. It had been several hours since SAM's chilling revelation that his father's remains had been left behind on the now defunct 'Golden World.'

In that time, Ryder had paced the equivalent of several miles within the confines of his quarters. No matter how hard he tried to relax, his mind refused to stop spinning.

He knew it was irrational, but Ryder felt betrayed. Everything just felt wrong.

In the logical part of his mind, he recognized that there had been little choice in the matter. Given the rocky circumstances, and the unforeseen chaos, it was either leave the body behind or get swarmed by the recently discovered kett.

When the mantle of Pathfinder had been hastily transferred to himself, the leaders of the Andromeda Initiative agreed that his father's death was a tragedy. Even so, when compared to the possible destruction or capture of an entire Ark, it barely measured up in their abstract calculations. For all of his father's accomplishments and commendations, despite all of his hard work and sacrifice, he was little more than an unfortunate casualty.

Regardless of the rationalization, a deep resentment settled in the pit of his stomach. Ryder had a difficult time determining who he begrudged more.

On one hand, Nexus leadership had failed to authorize a recovery mission and had basically brushed the entire issue under the rug. Out of sight out of mind as it were. On the other hand, the kett were ultimately responsible for the circumstances that led to his father's end. It was kett signal jammers that made radio communication difficult and it was kett soldiers that forced them to have to evacuate so quickly.

"It's all just fucked up," Ryder said to himself, his voice a low growl.

Kallo spared him a worried look. He almost asked the Pathfinder what he meant, but quickly decided against it. Hostility radiated out from Ryder in almost tangible waves. The further removed from Ryder's attention he was, the safer Kallo felt.

A small sigh of relief escaped the pilot when SAM's calm voice finally broke the tense atmosphere. "I have discovered the problem Pathfinder."

Ryder straightened from his leaning position and planted his hands against his hips.

"Fantastic. How long will it take to fix?"

"It is not something that can be fixed, Pathfinder."

Several moments of painful quiet followed as Ryder ruminated on what he had just heard. Kallo took a few steps towards the door in the name of self-preservation.

"What does that mean?" Ryder asked, his voice suddenly very calm and level. The sudden shift surprised Kallo. If anything, it actually made him more nervous. Suspecting an eruption from the Pathfinder he inched ever closer to the access panel.

Without skipping a beat, SAM responded with his usual collected cadence.

"The coordinates for Habitat-Seven have been locked out by an Initiative administration clearance code."

"So what? My Pathfinder credentials should give me clearance to basically anywhere."

"Unfortunately, they do not cover this access level. To override the lock-out, you require a clearance rating given only to Initiative Directors."

A deep scowl invaded Ryder's features and he clenched his teeth together. The muscles in his neck strained against the added pressure. "I see. Well, thank you SAM."

"My pleasure, Pathfinder."

Ryder stood motionless, his gaze focused on the ground as his expression remained contorted by a dark grimace. Kallo stood with baited breath. He could almost feel the heat of the Pathfinder's rage prickling against his skin. The seconds ticked by with unbearable slowness and the anticipation caused his heart to pound nervously against his rib cage. A silent minute passed. Ryder exhaled slowly and clenched his fists together. Kallo gasped for air when he realized he was holding his breath.

Suddenly, Ryder turned and marched towards the door. The pilot instantly pressed himself against the wall in an effort to remain out of the way. To his dismay, the Pathfinder stopped directly in front of Kallo's position and spoke without looking at him.

"Set a course for the Nexus. I expect us to be there by noon. Get it done."

Ryder swiped the access panel and opened the door. Before Kallo could muster up the courage to inquire about the reasoning for their detour, the door had already slammed in his face. Put out by the abrupt end of communication, but seeing no other alternative, he reluctantly resumed his position at the pilot's seat.

As he worked on setting up the proper coordinates and prepping the necessary docking codes for the Nexus' security procedures, the bridge door opened once more. Expecting Ryder to walk through the entrance again, Kallo did his best to look completely focused on his work. Faint footsteps pricked at the periphery of his hearing.

The collar of his shirt suddenly felt far too constricting.

He continued typing out the necessary information into the ship log, but his nervousness caused his fingers to stumble. After every other word he had to go back and rectify his typos. Just as quickly as they had started, the footsteps died near his chair. Whoever had entered the bridge was standing right behind him. He gulped. The trembling in his hands refused to stop. Unable to continuing typing without creating a mess, he simply stared at the screen and waited with bated breath.

"Hey Kallo, what're you doin'?"

Suvi's jovial voice broke through his mental fog and Kallo almost fell out of his chair in relief. They may have disagreed on a lot of things – most things if he was being honest – but the Tempest's chief science officer was a welcome reprieve from the wilting pressure of Ryder's presence. When he spun his chair around to look at her face, pleasantly dimpled by a friendly smile, her expression became slightly concerned.

"Are you feeling well? You look ill," she said, instinctively placing the back of her hand against Kallo's forehead.

"Oh yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he said as he shook his head away from her touch, "I'm just tired. The night shift is always killer, you know?"

Suvi nodded in agreement. No one enjoyed the night shift.

Taking a sip of her tea, she lounged comfortably in the co-pilot's seat as Kallo did his best to focus on the screen in front of him. To his chagrin, his nerves had gotten away from him. He chuckled condescendingly at himself. Give him an asteroid field with zero visibility and an almost non-existent drop zone and he was cold as ice. Regardless of the obstacles, his calm never broke.

Kallo pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. It irritated him to no end that he could handle near death scenarios but he failed to stand resolute when confronted with the Pathfinder.

In an effort to distract himself, he directed his focus towards his co-pilot. "What are you doing up so early anyway? It's three in the morning, you don't start until six."

She shrugged impassively. "Dunno, couldn't sleep I guess," Suvi said as she stifled a yawn. "Figured I might as well do something productive rather than toss and turn in my bunk."

With a sigh, he slumped in his chair. "Suvi, since you're up do you mind taking over a little early? I'm exhausted."

The science officer looked at him over the top her mug with an amused expression.

"Awe, is the pilot shweepy?" she asked in a babying tone. A small smirk creased her lips as Kallo eyed her with an annoyed gaze. Suvi laughed and waved him off. "Go on, get some sleep. I can take over from here; before you go, is there anything I should know?"

 _Besides the fact that the Pathfinder is losing it?_ He thought to himself.

Rather than speak his mind, Kallo shook his head. "No, nothing to report. The Pathfinder expects us docked at the Nexus by noon today. Beyond that, we're in the clear."

"Okay," Suvi said with a nod, "did Ryder say why we're going back to the Nexus? We were just there a few days ago."

"He didn't. Honestly, he didn't seem to be in a talking mood."

Suvi sipped her tea thoughtfully before speaking. "Do you think it has anything to do with what happened yesterday? Whatever made him…" she trailed off before continuing, "like _that_?"

The implication was not missed by Kallo. Ryder's bloody and gore riddled entrance had left quite the impression with the two of them. "It is very possible. Honestly, I don't know, and quite frankly, I don't want to know. I dealt with enough mental breakdowns in the Milky Way to want to have deal with another one."

She tilted her head with a confused expression. "What do you mean? He may be a little more intense than usual, but Ryder seems to be all there," Suvi retorted, tapping her temple for emphasis.

"Back in the Milky Way, I had friends in STG. They saw serious action and they did things that they refused to talk about. All I know is that my friends changed. The pressures of the job got the better of them, and who they _were_ was taken over by who they _became_." Kallo sat up in his seat just a fraction and met Suvi's attentive gaze. "I could be wrong – I really hope that I am – but certain things are way too similar to be coincidence."

Suvi chewed on her thumbnail reflectively. As Kallo collected his things and headed towards the exit, she spoke in defense of the Pathfinder.

"An important lesson you learn through research is that correlation does not equate causation. We need more data to prove one way or the other." Before Kallo could argue against her thoughts, she appealed to their shared experience, "I know that Ryder's return was a shock. When he first arrived, I was speechless. I could barely remember my own name." Suvi visibly shivered at the mental image, "But, we should give him the benefit of the doubt. He may have his moments, but Ryder hasn't led us astray so far."

It took every ounce of maturity Kallo possessed not roll his eyes. Suvi was clearly an optimist. He was very much a realist.

"We'll see," he said, his tone revealing an obvious lack of confidence in her assessment. With a wave of farewell, Kallo stepped out of the bridge and closed the door behind himself.

Suvi sat alone amongst the dim light of the piloting controls, contoured by pale rays of distant starlight. Picking up where Kallo had left off, she worked on finishing the ship log, preparing the proper docking codes, and plotting the shortest route back to the Nexus. As she waited for the drive core to cycle through its routine diagnostics, Suvi reflected upon what Kallo had said before he left. Though she may have agreed with some of what he expressed, she still thought he was wrong to doubt the Pathfinder.

"You just need to have faith," she proclaimed with conviction, speaking to no one but the shadows and the stars.

… … … … … …

Vetra sat cross legged on her cot, bleary-eyed from a lack of decent sleep. The night had been cursed with bouts of restlessness and an inability to get comfortable. Swearing unintelligibly under her breath, she blamed SAM for her troubled evening. Having listened to the AI's thorough breakdown of all that had transpired while on Kadara, Vetra struggled to sort through her conflicted emotions. It did not surprise her that Ryder had killed the outlaws and executed their leader. Considering what she, Drack, and Ryder had witnessed in the bunkhouse-from-hell, it was a foreseeable conclusion. There was no getting around the wrong that needed to be made right.

When she really thought about it, it was not the violence itself that troubled her. Truth be told, violence had become just an everyday part of life for the Pathfinder team. As SAM described – in perfect detail – the brutal thrashing that had been inflicted upon the outlaw leader, Vetra shivered despite the warmth of her quarters. It was not the cruelty itself that sent a chill down her spine, but the knowledge that Ryder had been the executor of such brutality.

Rather than be troubled with the action itself, she was more concerned with the changes in her friend. For the time that she had known Ryder, he had proven himself to be a good person. Perhaps a little rough around the edges at times, but decent at his core nonetheless.

Thanks to SAM's symbiotic connection to the Pathfinder's mind, all of the thoughts and emotions that coursed through Ryder in that regrettable moment were laid bare. It was obvious that something was wrong. Although Vetra had suspected something was awry for quite some time, it had only ever been a suspicion. Once again, her instincts were proven true. From what she could gather through SAM's retelling, Ryder's rage stemmed from something deeper within himself.

Never one to sit on her hands, Vetra was determined to understand the 'why' of it all.

A deep yawn clawed its way out of Vetra's system and she stretched languidly. Unfortunately, detective work would have to wait until she was confident that she would not spontaneously pass out while standing up. With her arms extended lazily above her head, she flumped upon her worn mattress and stared tiredly at the ceiling, tracing the tiny contours and imperfections as she lost herself in thought. While she may not have understood the source of Ryder's pain, she now possessed enough information to at least broach the subject of Kadara with him.

"It's as good a place to start as any," she said to herself. If what SAM said was true, that Ryder needed help that only she could provide, Vetra was more than happy to drop everything and do what she could.

 _Because that's what friends do,_ she proclaimed internally, reassuring herself that the rest of the crew would do the same given the opportunity.

Though deep down, she was not quite convinced.

Turning to rest on her side, exhausted by all of her wandering thoughts, she curled her legs into her chest. Craning her neck ever so slightly to look past the screwdriver that obscured the digital display of her clock, she realized to her horror that it was 11:45 in the morning. Vetra stuffed her face into the cushion of her pillow with an exasperated groan and attempted to will herself into a coma.

There were no pressing missions that needed her attention nor any ration requests that the rest of the crew needed re-filling. For all intents and purposes, today was her day off, and she was determined to enjoy it.

Just as the tension in her body seemed to melt away, and the cozy blanket of unconsciousness smothered her in a comfortable cocoon, a voice called her name and dragged her back into reality. Vetra did her best to stifle the threatening growl that attempted to escape her throat. She took a few deep breaths and huffed with frustration before answering whoever had so rudely interrupted her.

"What?" she demanded, her tone less than inviting.

"I apologize, Vetra. I did not mean to wake you."

Vetra pressed her palms into her eyes. "What's going on SAM?" she asked a little more kindly than before.

The blue orb projected itself from a console on her desk and she squinted at the cobalt light that radiated from the hologram. "It would seem that the Pathfinder is about to do something rash."

She sat up and eyed SAM's display with keen interest. "What do you mean by 'rash'?"

A low hum emanated from the floating sphere as it darkened into a dull indigo.

"Ryder desires a security clearance that only Initiative Directors possess. Should his request be denied, I worry that Ryder may do something regrettable."

Her curiosity had been piqued. "What kind of clearance are we talking about?"

"It provides access through upsilon level system-lockouts. Pathfinder credentials only bypass omicron level access points," SAM explained, his perpetually calm tenor a poor barometer of his true concern.

While she listened to the AI talk, Vetra had taken the opportunity to strip out of her sleep clothes and pull on her usual travel attire. The worn leather of her jacket fit like a glove as she shrugged her arms through the sleeves. With a few deft twists, her scarf was wound snuggly around her neck.

"Alright, and why does he want this clearance so badly?"

"It pertains to his father, the previous human Pathfinder."

Vetra only knew of Ryder's father by vague association. Aside from what the official Nexus records revealed – the classified portions notwithstanding – the man was very much an enigma. From what she had heard through the grapevine, he had died soon after coming to Andromeda. Though the details had been altogether fuzzy.

"So, I take it you want me to make some excuse to tag along with Ryder and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid?"

There was short pause before SAM answered, "Essentially."

She beamed at SAM's confidence in her abilities and gave the glowing ball a thumbs up. "Don't worry, I have a little sister; I'm well trained in keeping other's out of trouble."

… … … … … …

Ryder waited impatiently on the bridge as Suvi and Kallo collaborated with Nexus security to complete their docking procedure.

"For being a Pathfinder team, we sure do have to jump through a lot of hoops just to land," he said, absentmindedly rubbing the patchy fuzz on his chin.

Suvi looked back from her seat as she continued typing in the proper docking codes. "It's all part of the process Ryder," she said, her lightheartedness leaking into her words. "Our return wasn't expected until next week. Besides, where would we be without rules?"

With a small shrug Ryder conceded her point. Rules were important. Too bad he really did not want to deal with them right now.

As the Nexus security team finally approved their mooring, the bridge door opened behind him. Ryder turned instinctively and quickly wished that he had not. His stomach clenched anxiously.

It was inevitable.

The Tempest was a fairly small ship and there were few places to hide without bumping into the rest of the crew. Even so, he had wanted to avoid Vetra for as long as was acceptably possible. Their discussion from the night before and the suddenness with which he left the conversation all made for an uncomfortable atmosphere. Too many things had been left unsaid, too many things had already been revealed, and the path remained open for questions that he had no gumption to entertain.

Ryder nodded his head cordially, sliding on his best poker face. Despite his best effort, he displayed a rather lackluster smile. "Hello, Vetra."

"Hey Ryder, how are you?" she greeted in return, her demeanor projecting a visibly sunnier disposition.

"I'm fine. Can't complain."

The Pathfinder just so happened to be a terrible poker player.

Analyzing body language had become both a functional and constant source of entertainment for the seasoned smuggler. Black market trading was – naturally – a dirty business teeming with characters of all sorts and shades; growing up in such an environment quickly emphasized the importance of being able to size up who she was dealing with. It was also useful to be able recognize when a deal was about to go catastrophically sideways.

A cursory scan of Ryder's appearance revealed that he was not 'doing well' at all.

Dark bags bruised the bottom halves of his eyes while his face bore the shadowed hints of untrimmed stubble. Just like herself, he had clearly not slept decently last night either. In his jaw was a noticeable tightness that served as a traitorous indicator of his effort to appear relaxed. While his façade may have fooled some, it was too shallow to convince her of his statement. The stiffness in his posture only served to proffer further evidence of his discomfort.

Ryder could try to play off his unease as much as he wanted. It would do little good while Vetra was reading him like a book.

She grinned knowingly, well aware of his game. "That's good, I'm glad."

Never having developed a strong appreciation for small talk, Ryder chose to remain silent. There was no need to drag out their conversation – if their brief back and forth could even be considered such – unnecessarily. Vetra moved casually to the side and comfortably leaned against the back of Suvi's chair. The science officer turned slightly to smile 'hello,' before returning to her work, unperturbed by the company.

A low rumble gripped the Tempest as Kallo extended the landing gears and carefully brought the ship into a slow decline.

"So," she said, turning her attention from the observational window back to the Pathfinder, "what's on your agenda today?"

Suvi looked back from her monitor as well. "Y'know, I've been meaning to ask the same thing. Why are we back so early?"

Ryder glanced between the two of them, his eyes darting away quickly. "Oh, you know, the usual bureaucratic bullshit," he evaded their questions carefully. "I have to speak with Director Tann about some still-unresolved settlement issue. He said it was urgent."

Vetra chuckled lightly. "I hear you. It doesn't matter where you are, admin is always a bitch."

Suvi sniggered softly and Kallo snorted. "Truer words have never been spoken," the salarian agreed, his attention focused on landing the ship properly.

A genuine smile broke across Ryder's haggard features. "I guess it's just one of those universal constants."

Vetra looked at him with an amused smirk. "Must be."

They laughed together at the shared thought and settled into a relaxed quiet. Ryder still felt awkward about everything that had occurred the night before, but he was able to ignore his mortification for the time being. If Vetra could act normal around him, there was no reason for him to act odd around her.

Ryder's thoughts focused on his personal mission and he began to contemplate the best possible way to acquire the Director's clearances. His first choice, and probably least likely to be successful, was to ask Tann directly to add the clearance to his own security ID. No mess, no fuss, everyone comes out happy. Though nothing was ever that easy. Considering his less than warm relationship with the Director, it would probably be a cold day in hell before Tann gave him anything out of good will.

Well, anything besides a firm boot in the ass.

Finally giving the situation the attention it deserved, Ryder quickly realized that his second, third, fourth, and even fifth contingencies all relied on threats, theft, bodily harm, or varying degrees of all three.

Vetra noticed the concentrated look on the Pathfinder's face and nudged him slightly with her elbow. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Startled back into reality, Ryder grinned at her sheepishly. "Just trying to think of what to say to Tann to stay out of trouble." It was the truth in a way. If he approached Tann improperly, things could get dicey.

She smirked knowingly. "Just keep it short and sweet. Tann tends to get annoyed with long answers." Vetra shifted her weight to one leg and crossed her arms, "Then again, he also gets annoyed with too short of answers as well." She winked at him, "It really just depends on his mood I guess."

"Great." He rubbed his eyes tiredly, "I'm sure I'll figure it out." The confidence in his tone left something to be desired.

A sharp jolt violently rocked the Tempest as Kallo finally settled the ship down onto a large circular platform. Ryder stumbled briefly before catching his balance while Vetra held onto the back of Suvi's seat for support.

"Whoops," Kallo said with a gentle scratch of his nose. He sniffed casually and continued to type into his control panel.

Ryder and Vetra both eyed the pilot sharply. Suvi watched Kallo with a slight smirk, her chin supported in her upturned palm. The side of his head began to itch as their gaze bore into his skull.

He looked at them innocently. "What?"

Suvi's smirk grew and her nose crinkled delicately. "Smooth."

Vetra rolled her eyes at the pilot's feigned innocence while Ryder just shook his head.

Turning towards the exit, Ryder offered the trio a quick two-fingered-salute of farewell. "I'll see you later; duty calls and all that," he said as he moved to leave. Before he could get too far, Vetra lightly gripped his upper arm. He looked at her hand and then at her relaxed features. One of his eyebrows furrowed while the other raised quizzically in a wordless question.

She offered a toothy grin, "You mind if I tag along?"

"Why?" he asked, genuinely intrigued.

"I've been meaning to catch up with Kesh anyway, and her office is basically within spitting distance of Tann's." Vetra shrugged playfully, "Plus, it's my day off, and I have nothing better to do."

Ryder had not planned on anyone coming with him, and his first inclination was to decline her request outright. If he did in fact have to turn to threats or violence to get the codes from Tann, another witness would only complicate the situation further.

Taking care to organize his thoughts before making a decision, he realized it would look oddly suspicious if he refused her without an explanation. While it would be smarter for him to go solo and minimize the amount of moving variables, he begrudgingly noted that Kesh's lab was practically next to Tann's office. If Vetra did in fact go her separate way when they reached the command center, her presence would have little to no impact on his discussion with the Director.

Continuing to mull over the possibilities, Ryder also recognized that continued proximity presented an opportunity to further smooth out any awkwardness between the two of them. Though he did his best not to care, he could not help the anxious knot that had formed in his gut.

Despite his better judgement, and ignoring the nervous pounding in his chest, he offered her a small smile. "The more the merrier."

… … … … … …

The main Nexus plaza bustled with afternoon activity as Ryder and Vetra maneuvered their way through the crowded walkways. As the plaza floor broke off into separate avenues, various merchants entertained swathes of the crowd with flashy demonstrations of their various goods. Unable to effectively avoid the credit fueled gauntlet, several shopkeepers stopped them in their path in an attempt to peddle their wares. Politely declining the merchants' sales pitches, they pushed through the throng.

As they weaved through the flow of bodies, Ryder noticed that a large circular space had been cleared out near the middle of the square. At the center of the circle, an exotic weapons dealer flamboyantly – yet expertly – twirled a pair of asari blades between his hands. With each flash of steel and acrobatic twist of his torso, he elegantly demonstrated the weapons' effective reach and flexibility to his awed spectators.

Past the main entertainment, comfortably nestled further down the line, a salarian armorer bartered with a prospective customer. In between negotiating, an asari commando carefully tested the fit of a new set of Colossus power armor. From the look of her movements, and the satisfied grin that marked her face, everything was where it should be. A goldenrod patch on her duty attire indicated that she was a member of the Nexus' APEX teams. Considering the commando's choice in gear, she would be deploying somewhere fairly hazardous. Satisfied with her inspection, the commando gave the shopkeeper an enthusiastic grin before handing him the agreed upon credits.

Tucked into the one of the farthest corners of the atrium, a small group of fresh Initiative personnel laughed amongst themselves. Their mirth at being awakened from cryo-sleep barely contained. Adjacent to their location, and visibly less cheerful, a few angaran diplomats huddled together. From the wary expressions they wore, it was clear that the envoys had not quite found their bearings in this new alien environment.

Ryder observed the passersby with mild interest as they went about their daily business, unware of his scrutiny. While most of those around him looked content with their situation, their outlook only a few months before had been anything but positive. Lacking in energy and resources, the Andromeda Initiative was dead in the water by all measures. Early attempts at establishing outposts were met with brutal failure, large scale mutiny led to unnecessary death and the formation of exile factions, and the Arks were unaccounted for.

He hummed softly as he and Vetra ducked into the entrance of the tram station. While they walked towards the waiting passenger car, she met his wandering gaze with a raised brow.

"What're you thinking about?" she asked, scanning her omni-tool against the VI operated ticket booth.

How she was able to seemingly read his mind, Ryder had no idea. Although charming, he was somewhat disconcerted by her ability to recognize when something was tumbling around in his head. As she claimed a seat in the back corner of the passenger car, he met her curious look and eased into the space next to her.

"I'm really just trying to understand the meaning of life and what it all means," he disclosed, tilting his head with feigned innocence.

Vetra's expression shifted from curious to a mix between amused and annoyed. Her eyes narrowed slightly while her mandibles pressed closer against her face as she fought a small smirk. "Smartass."

He laughed at her comment. "Alright, fine. I guess I was thinking about how this place was a disaster only a few months ago." She nodded in agreement at his statement and he leaned back into his seat, "It always amazes me how quickly people can move on from things. One minute the sky is falling, the next it's as if nothing even happened; shopping and laughing and going about their day normally."

She crossed one leg over the other comfortably as she replied. "Well, it's not like they have any other choice but to bounce back quickly. There's no going back; the Milky Way might as well not exist anymore. Their options are to either keep moving forward or die with the past."

"I guess that's true," he agreed, itching the stubble that lined his chin.

Vetra appraised him with a critical look before tapping his cheek. "You really need to shave this. Facial hair does not become you, Ryder."

"Wow, thanks, you're so kind. You should go into motivational speaking," Ryder chided mockingly, swatting her hand away. She chuckled and lightly shoved his arm as he smiled with her. "I'm serious, you'd clearly make a killing."

Vetra let out a loud bark of laughter that drew the irritated attention of their fellow passengers. Muffling her sniggers with a clasped hand pressed firmly against her mouth, and half-heartedly waving an apology to those around them, she jabbed him in the side with a sharp elbow. Ryder yelped in surprise and cursed openly as he massaged his assaulted ribs. A human couple eyed them disapprovingly and he actively ignored them with a shrug. He did his best to glare at his companion, but it looked oddly lopsided as he smirked instead.

"You suck."

"I know," she said, patting him absentmindedly on the thigh.

Vetra's hand lingered just a moment longer than necessary, her slender fingers gently molding against the shape of his leg. With a small jolt she pulled her appendage back quickly and shoved it into her lap. Offering a self-conscious smile, she turned her attention towards the cycling train destinations displayed on the holo-board overhead.

"It looks like there will be a lot of stops on the way. The ride may take a while," she mumbled, doing her best to play off her embarrassment. Watching the holo-board, Vetra tried to ignore the faint heat the crept up her neck.

Oblivious to the turian's sudden blush, he yawned dispassionately. "Oh well; it's not like we're in a rush."

Vetra did not respond and instead looked out of the tram widow.

More than happy to sit in companionable silence, Ryder turned his attention back towards people watching. Despite the varied company occupying the vehicle, it was not long before they failed to anchor his steadily drifting attention. Without much resistance, his thoughts inevitably wandered out into a minefield and his good mood steadily gave way to a more melancholic countenance.

Shaded by the memories of Kadara, a pained part of his mind firmly believed that a clear and measured level of distance needed to be established between them. He was damaged goods.

Past a certain point, it just would not work out.

Whatever that 'it' was exactly remained unanswered as Ryder actively avoided the question. In order to save them both from pain – from heartache that his jaded soul would certainly exacerbate – it would be better if they remained nothing more than occupational acquaintances.

Ryder looked up from his clasped hands and studied her sleek profile. As he visually traced her features Vetra's eyes darted to and fro, an alluring passion veiled just beneath the surface. Even in her relaxed state, she appeared so very alive – so full of fire. Perhaps, despite his best efforts, that was why he was drawn to her. As much as he had wanted to avoid her and create space, his better judgement quickly lost out to the warmth that had invaded his chest.

Limiting their relationship to that of 'occupational acquaintances' was clearly not going to work, regardless of how logical it sounded.

He exhaled deeply and ran a hand through his hair. When had this become so complicated?

… … … … … …

Vetra watched with rapt interest as more and more people filled the tram car before it disembarked. Her mandibles tingled nervously, a warm hue accompanying the sneaking warmth that prickled up her neck and face. A lifetime's worth of wit suddenly evaporated from her mind as she was left stunned by what had just transpired. Every tap and shove had been intended as playful or joking; familiar, yet still cognizant of certain unspoken boundaries.

" _Except_ ," she thought as she chewed on the inside of her cheek, " _it had almost turned into something much more than that."_

The tips of her fingers felt hot against the inside of her palm. She honestly had no explanation for it. Her hand had behaved with a mind of its own. While she had purposely slapped Ryder's leg in response to his snarky comment, she had not meant to gently curl her fingers into the curve of his strong, and surprisingly muscular thigh.

" _Stop it; bad."_ She cursed internally. This was uncharted territory, and whatever 'this' was, it sent off a blinding neon 'X' within her head.

Out of her peripheral vision she watched Ryder rake a hand through his hair. Despite the obvious differences in their physiology – though she was rather hesitant to admit it – he was a fairly handsome individual. In their time together, she had noticed many of the younger human women giggling amongst themselves as they walked by. A primal part of her mind had purred approvingly as he seemed painfully oblivious to the way that they had cooed and batted their eyes at him.

She growled in frustration and dug a talon into her palm. It was all she could do to cut off the mortifying train of thought before it traveled even further. What did she care if other women found him attractive?

Vetra closed her eyes, forcing her mind to focus on anything else – on something much more platonic.

Ryder was her friend. In her usual line of work, friends were often very few and far between.

More often than not, in her case at least, whatever acquaintances she made usually tried to stab her in the back at one point or another. Not having to constantly worry about being jumped (except by Peebee due to her odd penchant for frequent piggy-back rides) had become a welcome luxury.

Although not one to openly admit her feelings, Ryder had become very near and dear to her heart. Whenever they were together, finally able to get out of their own heads and just be themselves, everything seemed right. The sarcasm came naturally and the banter flowed easily; their friendship – SAM's request for clandestine assistance notwithstanding – was an uncomplicated one

If the faint fluttering in her torso was any indicator, she was more than afraid to lose what they had.

Regardless, Vetra was afraid of what she felt. Feelings made things complicated, and complicated feelings ruined friendships. The more she dwelled on it, the more uneasy it made her.

Jarring her out of her introspective reverie, the door to the tram shuttered closed as the final stragglers hurried within. A deep rumble reverberated around the hull of the passenger car as it steadily began to accelerate in speed. Before too long, pale streaks of fluorescent light illuminated the shaded interior as they journeyed through the Nexus' rail line. As the vehicle continued forward towards its destination, Vetra heard Ryder sigh tiredly. She looked over at her companion and noticed the consternated expression etched into his sleep deprived features. Swallowing her embarrassment over the shameful independence of her fingers, and burying the unfamiliar fluttering in her gut, she nudged his knee with her own.

"So, what are you getting me for my birthday?" she asked innocently, doing her best to lighten the mood.

Ryder met her eyes with a blank look. Whatever issue had been occupying his mind seemed to have quickly dissipated at hearing her unexpected question. "What?"

Despite herself, Vetra could only giggle at the sudden deer-in-the-headlights look that he stared at her with. It was quite endearing truth be told.

"You know, my birthday," she teased, "That thing that comes around once a year marking the day of someone's birth."

He rolled his eyes before pressing his lips into a thin line, his brow furrowed as he tried to remember all of their past conversations. "You've never mentioned anything about your birthday before."

"Of course I have," she scolded, flapping a hand at him. "Maybe you just weren't listening."

The Pathfinder scrubbed a hand down his face in exasperation. "Woman, for the last time, I am telling you, you have never mentioned your birthday to me. _Ever_."

Vetra titled her head a fraction and narrowed her amber eyes dangerously. "You did _not_ just address me as ' _woman_ '," she challenged leaning into his personal space.

Despite her proximity, Ryder crossed his arms and schooled his features together. The pointed look in his eye antagonized her as he said dryly, "And what if I did?"

Before she could respond, he quickly added, " _Woman._ "

Her mandibles flared at his blatant cheek and she did her best to remain stoic. Their interaction had devolved into a stubborn trial of will. Whoever broke first would never hear the end of it, and she was determined not to lose. Ryder felt his lip quiver slightly as he suppressed the urge to grin while Vetra pinched herself to keep her expression serious. He refused to give ground and she would not give in without a fight.

It was a long ride to the Operations center, and to the utter suffering of their fellow passengers, they argued throughout the entire journey.

… … … … … …

Sid hummed contentedly as she poured a generous amount of dextro-substitute coffee into her travel mug. The liquid's woody aroma invaded her senses and helped to alleviate the drowsy cloud that had managed to muddle her thoughts all day. She strolled by the various offices scattered throughout Operations and traded pleasantries with the various personnel milling about. As Sid descended the ramp leading to her communications station, an odd and indistinguishable noise caught her attention. To her left, a pair of muffled voices could be heard going back and forth as if in some heated argument. Tracking the noise as it grew closer, Sid quickly realized that the disturbance emanated from the lobby doors leading to the station tram. Before long, the doors opened and a small group of obviously frazzled commuters filed out into the Operations foyer. Every last one looked miserable.

Just as Sid was about to ask one of the passengers what was going on, she spotted two very familiar faces slowly walking through the doors and up the entrance ramp. Ryder rubbed his upper arm while Vetra stepped in tandem with his stride. Her heated expression alleviated by just a fraction as she said something that Sid could not make out. He stopped in his tracks and stared at his companion with an indignant look.

"So you _punch_ me?" Ryder enunciated, his voice quickly elevating in volume. A few passersby looked in their direction as his voice carried through the vestibule.

Spinning around to face him, Vetra planted her hands on her hips and shifted her weight to one leg. Sid gulped instinctively. She knew that look all too well. It was the same look her sister would give her before she either got the whooping of a lifetime or a scolding that would melt her eardrums. Giddy to not be on the receiving end for once, she grinned and sipped her coffee. Her sister raised a pointed talon to his chest and jabbed him in the sternum for effect.

"You should have remembered."

He lifted his hands in a display of befuddlement. "How can I remember what I've never even been told?"

Vetra turned before he could respond and continued ascending the access ramp upwards. As she walked away, Ryder looked skyward and pinched the bridge of his nose as he scowled. Despite his best efforts, his frown slowly turned into an entertained grin. It was never a dull moment with the feisty turian around.

At the apex of the walkway, Vetra spotted her little sister waiting for her with a cheesy smile spread across her face. "Hey kiddo," she said as she wrapped Sid into a hug, "how're you doing?"

"I'm doing alright," Sid replied, "kind of enjoying not being the one in trouble for a change."

Vetra released her embrace and looked behind her. With the trace of a scowl etched into his features, Ryder grumbled to himself as he begrudgingly marched along the path to join them. While they waited for him to reach their position, Sid gave her sister a sly look.

"So what did he do?"

"Nothing, actually," her sister said through a mischievous tilt of her lips. "Figured I'd have a little fun; I made him believe he forgot my birthday."

She studied Vetra with a thoughtful expression. "But you've never told anyone about your birthday – besides me of course."

Her sister gave her a sidewise glance, "Exactly."

Sid's lips pressed into a surprised frown. "That's evil sis, even for you," she admonished before taking another sip of her beverage.

Ryder's grumbling grew louder as he neared and Vetra shrugged casually. Once he had crested the top of the pathway, despite his apparent sulkiness, Ryder smiled warmly at the younger Nyx sister.

"It's good to see you, Sid," he said as he continued to rub the sore spot on his bicep.

"You too," Sid returned as she grinned at him knowingly. She glanced at his arm, "So what happened to you?"

He shot Vetra a sharp look before returning his attention to the younger of the two. "Your sister happened. I don't know how you survived your childhood under her."

"You're such a baby," Vetra countered with a roll of her eyes, "I didn't even hit you that hard."

Ryder chuffed at her words and shook his head before addressing Sid once more. "So, how did you make it out alive?"

"Well, I remembered her birthday, for one," Sid answered as she smiled behind her coffee mug.

He pressed a palm to his face and exhaled deeply – there was no winning for him. "Fine. Fine. I give up." Ryder turned to Vetra, "Let me know what you want as a belated gift; I'll see what I can do." The Pathfinder glanced at Sid, "It was good to see you. I have to go, but we'll catch up some other time."

Before he walked away, he turned back to the older Nyx sister. "Have fun with Kesh; I'll meet you at her office when I'm finished with Tann," he said, slowly moving backwards.

Vetra nodded and smiled as he walked away. "Sounds good."

Offering Sid one final wave, he turned and strolled from the Operations center towards the main control hub. Connected by a set of ramps and walkways, it was only a short jaunt before he reached the entrance to Tann's office. As he entered through the sliding door, the Director's secretary, a young salarian named Yora, welcomed Ryder with an overly cheery demeanor.

"Pathfinder, it's so good to see you again. How can I help you?"

He returned her greeting with a polite smile. "I need to speak with Director Tann about something important. Is his schedule currently open?"

"I'm more than happy to check; one moment please."

Ryder nodded his thanks and began to mosey around aimlessly as Yora swiped through several different displays on her omni-tool. While he waited, he noted the extensively and lavishly decorated interior of the office space. For a man who exuded an air of rigidity and anal-retentiveness, the décor of his official area pointed towards a more eccentric taste. The secretary coughed softly in an effort to grab Ryder's attention while he studied an abstract painting of bright patterns and dark spatters. Wholly occupied with the piece before him, his head tilted almost perfectly parallel with the floor in a comical display of focus. Tann's secretary cleared her throat a second time.

"Pathfinder?"

Ryder righted himself and moved closer to Yora's desk. "I'm sorry, I was distracted."

"Not a problem; Director Tann is currently available. Would you like me to let him know you're here?

He smiled disarmingly. "Oh, no, its fine, I'll just go up myself. Thank you."

"Of course," the secretary consented.

Moving up the walkway from the secretary's desk, the main anteroom broke out into an even larger waiting area. In the middle of the space, a large holo-display projected the glowing image of the Initiative's most recently established settlement. Beyond the projector, several glass cases, housing both ancient relics as well as more modern mementos, lined the walls. It was an impressive collection to say the least. Ryder continued upwards until he reached the final platform that contained Tann's workstation and personal monitors. While the Pathfinder approached the Director's desk, Tann swiped casually through the messages on his private terminal. Without looking up from his screen, the salarian addressed Ryder with a nasally voice.

"Hello, Pathfinder. I'm sure you're here for a good reason? Your manifest doesn't have you scheduled to return to the Nexus until next week."

Ryder appraised the Director with a slightly raised brow. Barely three seconds into their conversation and he could already feel his blood begin to boil. His lips pressed into a tight line as his heartrate began to pick up speed. For a brief moment he seriously considered simply knocking Tann out and stealing the clearance codes. Obviously he would be caught – there were security cameras everywhere – but it would be a thoroughly satisfying experience.

Rationality quickly won out as his fist clenched together. If he wanted to find his father's body, he would have to be diplomatic.

" _More like I have to kiss ass,"_ he thought bitterly.

Plastering on a painfully disingenuous display, Ryder greeted Tann. "Hello Director, it's good to see. I hope all has gone well with the settlements so far?"

"Mm. Reports have been barely satisfactory. You will need to work harder if the Initiative is to be a success."

Ryder's nostrils flared at the thinly veiled condescension that laced the Director's words. Punching him looked more and more appealing with each passing second. "Of course; you're absolutely right. My team and I will do all that we can to ensure the settlements are successful."

"I'm sure," Tann said as looked up from his display and met Ryder's eyes with a bored expression. "Now, what did you want? I have things to do."

The Pathfinder moved a few steps closer to the Director's desk and assumed a stance of respect with his arms placed comfortably behind his back.

"Earlier today, I attempted to plot a course for Habitat-Seven. However, the navigational computer would not accept the coordinates due an administrative lock-out."

At this information, Tann's expression morphed from uninterested to thoroughly alert.

"I'm well aware," he said as he turned his full attention towards Ryder and pressed his fingers into a steeple. "Why did you attempt returning to Habitat-Seven?"

"It's a family matter, Director."

Understanding dawned in Tann's mind. "I see. This is about your father then."

Ryder simply nodded the affirmative.

"And you need the proper clearance codes – _my_ clearance codes – to get through the lockout, correct?"

He nodded again.

Tann chuckled humorlessly and stood from his position at his workstation. He came to stand near Ryder and spoke so softly it was almost a whisper. "I understand you wanting to retrieve your father's body. However, you must think of the greater political ramifications."

Ryder turned to face Tann. "I don't follow," he admitted with a deep frown.

The Director sighed as if having to explain something to a child and placed a hand on Ryder's shoulder. Uncomfortable with Tann's sudden proximity he warily eyed the elongated appendage. Regardless of bureaucratic hierarchy, Tann had encroached on his personal space and he was most definitely not a fan.

He returned his gaze upwards and met the salarian's disconcerting eyes. Even in the best of light, Tann's irises were barely distinguishable from the inky sclera that surrounded them. Despite his resolve Ryder felt his hair stand on-end.

"You see Ryder, the Initiative, regardless of its recent successes, is still reeling from our early losses and failures. We may look strong on the surface – appearances are key after all – but our people remain brittle. We've lost far too much to openly recognize the loss of our first and most preeminent Pathfinder. For those living on the Nexus or stationed at our settlements, the Pathfinders are regarded with an almost mythical quality." He spread his arms wide into the air, "You are larger than life."

It was a rare occurrence where Ryder was flabbergasted. In the time that he had taken up the mantle of the Pathfinder after his father's death, the odd and the weird had become somewhat of a common occurrence. That being said, something from far out in left field was required to knock him off balance.

Tann's words did just that.

Ryder's brow scrunched together in a struggling display of anger, confusion, and disbelief. "What?" was about the most eloquent thing he could muster as his brain buzzed with a thousand different overlapping questions.

Tann patted him on the shoulder and leaned against the metal edge of his desk, crossing his arms across the front of his chest as he did so.

"Think about it like this: the Pathfinder is more than just a rank and designation; the Pathfinder is much more than an explorer and trailblazer. He is a tool to be used. A symbol to be followed. You, Ryder, are the one constant in an ever shifting maelstrom."

He offered no response to the Director's tangent as he listened with attention. The salarian continued on with his explanation, impressively unfazed by the waves of animosity that slowly filtered out of his subordinate.

"Basically, the Pathfinder is not allowed to die. True, the person behind the mantle may be replaced due to death or necessity, but the public need not know the specifics," Tann clarified further.

For Ryder, none of this made any rational sense. His father had beaten the principle of integrity into his core as a young boy, and everything he had heard thus far spat in the face of that.

Without skipping a beat, the salarian continued with a flourish of his hands. "So long as the symbol lives, the people possess the strength and hope needed to push forward in our grand endeavor. If we should falter, should our people lose faith, the Initiative shall surely crumble around our feet."

The Director recovered from his casual position and returned to the more official spot behind his desk.

"It's all for the greater good, Ryder."

In spite of Tann's grandiosity and well meaning, Ryder heard nothing but a steady stream of refined garbage. Every word reeked of manipulative self-interest.

He braced his hands against the edge of Tann's desk and glanced up with a dark expression. A storm raged within his chest and the levies strained against the rising tide. Forcing himself to remain civil, Ryder swallowed his anger.

"Please, Director. If no official service is to be provided, fine. I can accept that. However, at least allow me to bring my Father home. He deserves that much."

The salarian appraised him thoughtfully but quickly shook his head. "No. I am sorry, Ryder, truly, but there are too many loose lips on this station. I cannot guarantee the news will not spread. The second the people have tangible knowledge – visual proof – that the Pathfinder is just as vulnerable as everyone else, the illusion evaporates."

He swiped at a message that appeared on his screen and continued, "I wish I could help you, but I can't. For the time being Ryder, your request for clearance to Habitat-Seven is denied."

His words closed with a tone of finality, and as far as the Director was concerned, their conversation was over.

Ryder's posture had become taut. Truth was what mattered, regardless of how painful. There could never be growth if the people followed a convenient lie.

"What about honor, Tann? Does that count for nothing?" he challenged. Venom dripped from every syllable as he ignored the salarian's official title.

Tann leaned back in his chair with a mildly surprised expression. "I beg your pardon?"

"Honor. It's fundamental. If _anyone_ deserves to be remembered, my father does. He sacrificed _everything_ for the sake of the Initiative. He _died_ for the Initiative."

Ryder's words pulsed with passion. Tann continued to meet Ryder's fiery gaze with an apathetic air and pressed the tips of his fingers together.

"You're young Ryder, so I don't expect you to understand the chess game that is politics. We've all done ugly things for the sake of what is best for the people. We do what we must for those that we love," Tann said, his lips turning up as if finding something humorous. "Am I right?"

The Pathfinder stood from his bent position and squinted suspiciously. "What are you talking about?"

Tann closed his eyes and breathed in deeply before releasing an equally heavy sigh. Although he was quickly growing impatient, he masked his annoyance particularly well.

"I know it may be hard to believe, but I love the people of the Initiative. Everything that I do, I do for them. I have sacrificed and I have lost for them. I have even killed for them."

Ryder looked at him skeptically and Tann noticed his disbelief.

"Well, not personally. Though, I directed my fixers towards those who were deemed problematic to our cause." As Ryder's expression became more apprehensive he flicked his hand indifferently. "They were outcasts and exiles; they caused nothing but problems; they were nobodies."

"Is that supposed to somehow make their murders acceptable?" Ryder fumed with unfiltered loathing.

Tann could only laugh.

"I find it amusing that you have the gall to stand before me and speak about honor. After what happened while you were stationed at Arcturus Station, I'm surprised by your standards."

Whatever fire had burned in Ryder's chest was soon doused by the sudden ice that coursed through his veins. There was no way the Director could have had access to that information.

The salarian quickly noticed the sudden shift in Ryder's demeanor.

"Don't look so shocked," he said merrily. "Following the mutinies, I needed to weed out those I could trust and those I had to be wary of. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and I was able to parse through every bit of every Initiative personnel file."

Ryder's complexion quickly turned ashen as Tann neared something forbidden.

"Even the redacted parts."

Ryder would swear that he felt his heart stop for a fraction of a second. Whatever records existed were supposed to have been permanently sealed under Alliance authority.

"I must say, you left quite a mess during your time with the Alliance. After all of the red that dripped from your ledger, it is no wonder they let you go."

If not for the shock that jumbled his equilibrium, Ryder would have been across the desk with his hands wrapped around Tann's scrawny throat. Instead, he remained silent and focused on the Director with wide eyes.

Tired of their back and forth, Tann waved him off. "We're done here Ryder. Your request is denied, and any attempt to breach Habitat-Seven's no-fly-zone shall bear severe ramifications for you," he threatened.

Tann paused for an agonizing minute as he allowed his words to truly sink in. Finally, he broke the silence.

"You know the way out."

Ryder, too dazed to formulate a coherent argument or appeal his case, remained mute and obediently turned away from the Director's desk. He quietly descended the walkway and found his way to the lower entrance of the office. Before he crossed the threshold of the main door, the secretary once again offered a sickeningly sweet smile as she bid him farewell. He did his best to reciprocate Yora's courtesy but failed to muster anything greater than a hollow grimace.

Still lost in his own thoughts, and largely unaware of those around him, Ryder aimlessly wandered through the Operations deck. On occasion, he inadvertently bumped shoulders with the other personnel also crossing the floor. Despite their surprised yelps or angry remarks he continued on, deaf to their voices.

With each belabored step, dread gripped his heart.

No one besides himself, his father, and his commanding officers had been privy to the details of his discharge. Despite six hundred years of time and billions of light years of travel, Ryder's past still found a way to haunt his steps. Without even realizing it the Director had created an unwelcome loose end.

And one way or another, Ryder was determined to tie it off.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:**

 **Nobody panic – I am still alive!**

 **I hope that you're all doing well and have had a good summer. It's been a while since I last posted and I seriously apologize for that. The past couple of months have been a little hectic. With projects at work as well as out-of-state training, most of my energy has been focused elsewhere.**

 **This chapter has definitely been a process. Over the last couple of months I have written, rewritten, scrapped, and recovered this section at least six times before finally finding an iteration that I am happy with. Pages upon pages were created then removed repeatedly because it just didn't "feel right." Some iterations felt too melodramatic, others felt contrived, and some just seemed out of place (even if I liked them in the beginning).**

 **So here we are, several drafts later, and I can happily say that this final draft – to me – feels "right." I've alluded to several hints and backstory throughout the previous chapters, and I think now is a good time to finally flesh them out. As the saying goes, to know where you're going you have to know where you've been.**

 **I appreciate all of your patience and support and I hope that you all enjoy this new chapter.**

 **Have an awesome day!**

 **P.S.**

 **A big shout-out to those who took the time to message me and ask about my wellbeing. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to reach out, it means a lot. I'm so glad that you still look forward to seeing how this story unfolds.**

 **… … … … … …**

Ryder sulked in the corner booth of Vortex. The shaded interior warped the lines of his face as he stared into an untouched glass of bourbon. His mind had traveled somewhere far away. Instead of the _bump-bump-bump_ of the club music, he felt the vibrating beat of a dropship pulse through his chest. He watched the ice cubes bob within the recesses of his drink as visions of disfigured corpses danced beneath the amber waves. Beneath his fingertips, with one hand clenched in a death grip and the other wrapped tightly around his cup, he felt the icy crust of a far off world bite into his skin.

His mind felt frozen; locked in a battle against memories he would rather leave forgotten. Ryder exhaled between gritted teeth. A small crack traced around the side of the glass beneath his white-knuckled grasp. He gulped down his drink, ice and all, grimacing at the familiar burn that seared his throat. The Pathfinder poured himself another round, intent on drowning his memories.

Bringing the glass up to his lips, the fine earthy aroma of his drink caressed the edges of his nostrils. Where once the odor soothed his nerves, he now found himself struggling against the bitter bile in his mouth. Instead of the accustomed smokiness, he was met with the unmistakable stench of charred flesh. Ryder worked to contain the contents of his stomach as the taste of ash manifested in the back of his throat. He pushed the liquid away and gripped the edge of the table.

"Bad day, kid?"

Ryder released his hold and looked up at his uninvited guest. Drack's large emerald eyes bore into his, intrigued by the Pathfinder's withdrawn posture. The Pathfinder debated whether to muster some form of a witty retort but lacked the energy.

"Yeah."

Uninterested in waiting for an invitation, and unconcerned by the withering aura that emanated from Ryder, Drack flumped heavily into the opposite booth seat. The krogan eyed Ryder's abandoned drink and wordlessly drained the contents into his reptilian gullet.

"That's some weak shit," he said. "Compared to ryncol, you might as well drink pyjak piss."

"Seeing as how ryncol usually kills most other species," Ryder countered, "I'll stick with the piss."

Drack chortled heartily and reached across the table, smacking Ryder's shoulder. "But where is the excitement in that? Life's no fun without a little risk."

The Pathfinder straightened in his seat and rubbed the part of his arm that had been attacked by the krogan's massive appendage. "Russian roulette is risky. Ryncol is suicide."

"Humans," the old veteran chastised with a shake of his head.

Not interested in getting into an argument over natural selection, Ryder ignored the jab. "What're you doing here?"

Drack shrugged and waved over the bartender. "Getting a drink," he said as he handed the asari waitress a few credits and looked back at the Pathfinder. "And you?"

"The same."

Clapping his saucer sized hands together, Drack unceremoniously asked, "So where's your other half?"

"I'm sorry?"

The veteran rolled his eyes and sighed simultaneously. "I'm old, kid. Not fuckin' blind."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Ryder denied as his brow scrunched together.

"Right."

Drack leaned into his seat, his elbows resting casually against the backrest. "Enough beating around the bush, kid. Something's eating at you."

Ryder did his best to appear indifferent. 'Eating at him' was putting it mildly. It felt like a mountain was bearing down upon him, suffocating him with the sheer pressure of what lay buried beneath its foundation. It felt like he couldn't breathe. It _felt_ like he was losing his mind. However, that was private information and he had no intention of divulging the particulars to his crew.

Before he could even attempt to weave the first threads of a lie, Drack held up a massive palm. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not," Ryder said after an offbeat pause. "I'm fine."

A heavy huff slipped through the krogan's lips and his gaze narrowed. The waitress placed a bottle of ryncol on the table between them and left without a word.

"What did I just say?"

"I'm not lying," Ryder protested, doing his best to sound convincing.

Drack took a long swig from his bottle. "You're so full of shit. I know it; you know it; I'm pretty sure the whole bar knows it too."

Rather than admit defeat, Ryder opted to remain silent.

"I've been around a long time, kid. A damn long time," The krogan shoved a large finger into Ryder's face. "And I've seen _that_ look more times than I can count over the course of my golden years."

"What? The look of someone on the cusp of an inebriated stupor?" Ryder asked, hoping his sarcasm would deflect Drack's probing.

"Funny," the veteran said as he chuckled, "but no. I'm talking about ruzalakh."

Ryder's eyebrow quirked upwards. "What?"

"Ruzalakh," Drack repeated before drinking some more ryncol. "It's an old krogan term from long before Tuchanka was nuked into a desert," he explained, scratching the spikes along his jaw absentmindedly. "Happens to most warriors at one point or another."

The Pathfinder leaned back into his seat, unsure of what the old krogan was trying to explain. "What do you mean?"

"In the old days, our shamans claimed that pieces of our battles could become trapped within us. They can manifest in different ways depending on the person, but they can be debilitating unless cleansed properly."

Ryder nodded slowly, his lips pressed tightly into a thin line.

Drack continued, "Krogan wage war like it's a comfy hobby. But that doesn't mean we aren't affected by its more unpleasant pieces."

Understanding began to settle in Ryder's brain and he found himself uncomfortable at the realization.

"With who we are and what we do, ruzalakh will rear its ugly head one way or another," Drack explained as he leaned against the table top, supporting himself with his forearms. "Deal with it how you best see fit; kill something, get drunk, get laid, maybe even cry. It doesn't matter what you do, so long as you face it head on; so long as you get back on your feet."

Drack stood from his seat and finished what remained in his bottle. Placing the empty container at the end of the bar, he looked back to where the Pathfinder lingered.

"Get off your ass."

Without waiting for a response, Drack cut through the throng of dancing patrons and disappeared into the bustling Nexus market. Ryder watched the door slide closed behind the veteran. The bartender brought a new glass and fresh bourbon to his booth. He began to protest against the gesture before the asari silenced him with a wave of her hand and smiled cordially.

"It's on the house. You look like you could use it."

The bartender returned to her station at the front as Ryder poured himself a generous serving. Though reluctant to admit it, Drack was probably right. If he did not confront the mess in his head directly, it would only become worse. But if he confronted it, he would have to come to terms with it. He would have to revisit it.

Stubborn to the bitter end, Ryder hastily gulped down the liquid in hopes of outrunning what he knew to be true.

With each passing serving, even as his senses dulled progressively further, Ryder grimaced irritably. His mind still felt mired by the muck of the past.

Before long the lounge had begun to toss and turn of its own accord. Ryder blinked several times in hopes of readjusting the shifting space to no avail. Each closure of his lids momentarily paused the spinning, but the room refused to stay put. He tilted the back of his head against the booth seat and clamped his eyes shut. Despite the unsteadiness of the world around him, Ryder cursed his inability to escape the crushing weight of his memories. Blind to the world, he felt around the table until his fingers closed around the neck of the whiskey bottle. No longer interested in keeping up appearances the Pathfinder drank directly from the container with no intention of stopping.

If he could not forget, then he could at least try to drown.

 **… … … … … …**

Ryder hated hospitals.

There was something too sterile about medical facilities that set his teeth on edge. The abundance of white and stainless steel felt unnatural. Even so, in the face of his blatant discomfort, the Pathfinder found himself stepping through the front entrance – albeit reluctantly – of ark Hyperion's intensive care ward. As the door to the facility closed behind him, he was struck at how quiet the space was. Aside from the methodic chirping of monitors and the steady breathing of the lone patient, the clinic was silent.

A moment came and went where the Pathfinder seriously debated turning on his heels and leaving as quickly as he had come. Yet as he watched the patient breathe, their chest rising and falling with the consistency of clockwork, he forced himself forward. Sober Ryder would have run out; he would have avoided this place as if it was afflicted by the plague. Though in truth, he had pretty much done that already. It had been several months since his first and only visit.

The death of his father had already carved out a substantial wound by itself. Ryder did not know how he would cope with the loss of his sister.

Driven onward by the liquid courage creeping through his veins, Ryder clumsily worked his way down the center aisle towards his sleeping sibling. Finally seating himself at the edge of the mattress, the anxious urge to flee resurfaced. Though only inches away Ryder refused to look in the direction of his sister's face. Being in the same room as her was difficult enough.

Despite the drive to leave everything in the dust, his need to vent overrode his desire to run. Drunk, and in the presence of his last remaining safety net, Ryder felt free to speak of the secrets that assaulted him. The Pathfinder opened his mouth, attempted to organize his mental storm, and found himself stricken by a loss for words.

He had no idea where to even attempt to begin. Ryder searched and searched for the right thing to say; for the magic phrase that would untether him for the briefest moment; but found his reservoir empty and his eloquence muted. Frustrated, Ryder slid from the mattress to the floor and pressed his forehead against the cold metal of one of the bed's legs.

Everything felt wrong.

Whether emotional or physical, Ryder's scars ached in a way that he could not describe. With each suppressed memory he thought his skull would split into pieces; shattered into chunks by the force of his resurging phantoms. Rather than silence the noise, the long discarded bottle of whiskey had turned his sensory orchestra into an unorganized cacophony of sound and fury. Wave upon wave of mixed and compounded emotion broke upon the walls of his mental armor again and again and again. Like lashes of lightning, horrid visions illuminated the veiled halls of his conscience. With each passing crackle the afterimages of his demons remained burned into the murk of his thoughts. An entire reel of unresolved conflict, raw and unfiltered, bore into him with the force of a hurricane.

He wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his head against his knees. His breathing, ragged and irregular, came out in sharp huffs. A high pitched wail erupted between the walls of his skull and he ground his teeth together until the muscles in his jaw began to spasm. Overcome with the sensory overload, Ryder tried to make himself as small as possible.

There was no grace to his agony, no flattering catharsis as the pressure discovered a newfound floodgate. His insides felt as if he had been disemboweled; his entrails ripped apart with teeth. Each beat of his heart served as an unwelcome reminder that he still remained among the living. As he inhaled, his throat felt as if a stone had been shoved into his windpipe.

A part of him wanted to die. At least in that nothingness he would not feel _this_.

Ryder gingerly moved his hand up the side of the mattress until the tips of his fingers brushed against the edge of his sister's palm. "Wake up, Sara," he pleaded, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "Please."

He closed his eyes and waited; hoping for something to change. Ryder counted the beeps of Sara's heart monitor. When he reached somewhere in the hundreds he dropped his hand from her bedside and stood from his place on the floor.

Ryder turned away and left without a second glance.

 **… … … … … …**

 _The batarian stared at him with frenzied desperation. Gaunt, driven to the brink of insanity by cold and starvation, the marooned pirate was consumed with feral hunger. Ryder grimaced as he struggled against the blade poised above his chest piece. Condensation pearled on the inside of his visor with each passing breath. He could feel the muscles in his arms begin to tremble under the unrelenting strain._

 _Ryder's foot slipped backwards on a patch of ice and the pirate forced him to one knee. Caught off balance, the batarian broke through his defense and plunged the knife precariously closer to his sternum. A wave of panic flooded Ryder with adrenaline and he pushed against the alien's wrist with renewed vigor. Tasting victory the pirate pushed against his iron grip. Despite his rejuvenated reserves, Ryder remained at a disadvantage._

 _He scooped up a handful of snow in one hand and hurled the particulate at the pirate's face._

 _The alien's helmet protected him from the brunt of the debris, but it provided Ryder the momentary distraction he needed to get off his knees and wrench the knife out of his opponent's grasp. He pushed the starved lunatic away and crouched into a combative stance. They stood several feet apart watching each other; waiting for the first move. Ryder held the knife ready. The batarian paced back and forth, stooped like a predator, his four large eyes wild._

 _A large gust of wind kicked up a flurry of snow into Ryder's field of vision and the pirate lunged. Distracted by the sudden veil, and caught off guard by his enemy's speed, Ryder found his arms trapped beneath the batarian's frantic embrace. He struggled to free his now captured limbs and felt the pirate's fingers searching for the blade that was now pressed into his side. Determined to escape, Ryder forcefully connected the front of his helmet with his opponent's. Stunned, the batarian failed to maintain a steady grip and Ryder plunged the blade into the alien's gut._

 _Warmth oozed across the tops of Ryder's hands as blood rushed over his gloves. Oblivious to his wounds, the pirate pushed them both towards the edge of the cliff. Steam billowed upwards and around the alien's back as hot blood contacted the freezing atmosphere. Ryder ground his heels into the frozen earth, but continued to slide along the ice despite his efforts. Finally pulling one of his arms free, Ryder sunk the blade between the pirate's shoulders. The alien went limp but it was too late._

 _Dead weight unsettled his balance and Ryder lost his footing. He felt the world fall out from under him and he careened into the frozen canyon below._

Ryder's eyes snapped open at the weightlessness that had startled him awake. He leaned against the headboard of his bed and peered aimlessly into the darkness that enveloped his room. How and when he had returned to the Tempest was a blank spot in his memory. If the empty bottle of booze on his nightstand was any indication, the night had not ended when he left Hyperion's medical wing.

He shivered despite the warmth of the ship. It had been a long time since he had dreamt about that day. Ryder removed himself from his sheets and strode over to his desk, retrieving a pill bottle from one of the drawers. He dumped a number of tablets into his palm without counting and swallowed them. As if by reflex, Ryder rinsed down the medication with whatever drops remained in the glass container at his bedside.

Goosebumps prickled at his skin and he wrapped his blanket across his shoulders to stave them off. Warm wool cocooned his frame and Ryder closed his mind to whatever memories had begun to stir beneath the surface. It only took minutes for the medication to begin taking effect. Ryder sank further and further into the darkness around him, slipping peacefully into oblivion. His mind remained muted and unimaginative, comfortably insulated from whatever had attempted to slither through.

The familiar tingle of SAM's neural link activating stirred his consciousness from the fingers that had begun to pull him deeper into nothingness. His heart rate suddenly spiked and he felt sweat form at the peak of his brow. Each breath felt heavy. The air itself was like syrup in his lungs. Caught in between the limbo of unconsciousness and reality, he stopped fighting and allowed the shadows to drag him away.

 _He crashed and rolled down the unforgiving incline. Pulled helplessly forward by momentum, he continued to bounce along the jagged terrain. Any sense of direction was lost as the world spun ruthlessly. Just as the incline seemed to even out, he tumbled off of a false ledge and plummeted further into the barren ravine._

 _A horrid snap reverberated through his core as he crashed heavily onto his left side. If there were words to describe the lance of fire that coursed from the tips of Ryder's fingers and into his chest, he did not know them. His breathing rattled out in labored wheezes and he rolled onto his back. Though he had no way to know for sure, it felt as if several of his ribs had cracked._

 _Crumpled in a haphazard heap, his vision faded in and out as he struggled to fill his lungs. Small pellets of ice fluttered down from on high and coated him in a light dusting of fresh snow._

 _After what may have been minutes or hours, Ryder could not reliably tell, he forced himself into a sitting position. Cradling his injured arm in the other, he maneuvered his back against the cliff face that rose far above him. Wedged into the barest of alcoves Ryder observed the gathering snowstorm that threatened to eventually bury him._

 _He peered up into the steel gray sky and swore inwardly. After everything that had happened, and had gone wrong, the weather itself was trying to kill him._

 _A clump of ice dropped from the overhang above and landed squarely on his shoulder. Fresh explosions of searing electricity erupted from his side and sent tingling rivers through his forearm and bicep. Small pinpricks of light flooded his vision as a wave of nausea rocked through his body. Ryder closed his eyes and clenched his jaw against the rising tide in his abdomen. No good would come from him vomiting in his helmet. Several minutes passed. Inches of fresh powder collected around his armored legs. The urge to sleep began to creep into his exhausted muscles and he struggled to shake off the heavy haze that began to weigh down his senses._

 _The life support meter on his HUD began to dip into the yellow. Eunomia's arctic conditions dangerously outpaced his hardsuit's abilities to maintain his core body temperature. If he did not find shelter soon, he would freeze to death._

 _Left with few options, Ryder stepped out into the snapping wind and limped further into the frozen gulley. Hoping beyond hope, he scanned the surrounding rocks for any sign of a cave._


End file.
